Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Think before you speak, that's what they always say.
But my mind is like a bomb and it keeps ticking away.
Ticking and ticking, and soon it's gonna blow.
I don't know how to rewire it, to make it not explode.
So words flow out of me, with no warning or hold.
And I wanna say only words of love but it's hard to control,
all I say and all I feel. I try to put you first.
But it's not that easy, and I'm sorry you got hurt.

Cause my mind is like a labyrinth and I'm no Hercules.
And I've got no Greek goddess with magic string to help me see,
where I am going. I am completely lost.
And I can hear the ticking get faster, theres just 10 seconds on the clock.
It winds down to 9 and finally I think of something to say
Then it goes to 8 and that thought has gone away.
And in the blink of an eye I go from seven to 1.
In the blink of an eye my time is done.

And every time I talk to you, this is what goes on in my head.
It's like talking to you makes me brain dead.
You carry a little 10 second bomb with every word you say.
Puts me in a cycle, and it drives me insane.
And so no matter how insensitive, these words flow from my mouth.
And before I can stop they're already out.
This labyrinth, this maze, with a bomb I can never reach to shut off.
Just ticks till it explodes and then resets it's own watch.

And I'm sorry I can't control it, I swear that I've tried.
But to get it to stop working I would have to die.
Blow it up before it blows up inside of my head.
And so if you think that I'd be better off dead,
Then alive causing you pain or grief,
For all the damage I've caused I'll do you this one deed.

Next time the clocks ticks down, it'll go down right, 3, 2 and now one.
But this time it's not words that flow out when it explodes,
No this time it's blood.
A ball player and a thief
Will likely be pregnant by age 16.
Lives in the ghetto and is poor,
Often identified as a *****.
Runs fast and does drugs,
Hangs around with gangsters and thugs.
Has a gun or a friend with one.
Speaks in slang, must be part of a gang.
Mess with her, she'll pull a Sharkeisha on you.

If you were to picture a person of any race,
That fits the description that just took place.
A baller and ****, hmm... what race matches that?
Yeah you're right, that person is probably black.
Is fast, does drugs, and speaks with slang?
Lemme guess, is he also in a gang?
A young mother who is also poor?
Bet she doesn't know who the dad is, what a *****.
All these negative stereotypes associated with being black.
Its disheartening, sicking and its really sad.
And whats sadder is that if you are the opposite of all of that,
You are often told that you're not really black.

Does your skin colour change for going to Harvard?
Will it change for speaking like an English scholar?
Because I play hockey and not ball, does that make me white?
So what if I'm the type of person to run away from a fight?

You don't have to be irresponsible and rude to be considered black.
It's your ethnic background that determines that.
And to some people, all we are is the complexion of our face.
Light, dark, somewhere in the middle, to some, the bad of a few defines
our whole race.

Does running away from a cop, and being black give someone grounds to shoot?
Why is it that my skin color is what is most important to you?
Is asking a question when getting arrested for no visible reason really resisting arrest?
Does struggling to break free from restraints to catch my breath, give someone a reason to grab on tighter to strangle me to death?
The actions of a few don't define the actions of a whole group.
And this assumption that all black are thugs, thieves and liars has done clear damage to,
Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin and so many more.
They didn't know it, but just by being black, they put their lives at risk when they stepped out their door.

Don't you think it's gotten too far when we have to prove Black Lives Matter, or when we the saying of a movement is Hands Up, Don't Shoot.
Should people have to be reminded that blacks are real people and that our lives matter  too?

We are athletes and musicians.
Lawyers and physicians.
The leader of a nation.
An anchorman of a news station.

We don't all fit into that mold that is preset for us.
You can and should expect great things of us.

Because we don't have to be a ****, or a baller to be considered black.
We define what type of black person we are, we determine that.
How long can your legs quake, your body shake, before your heart breaks?
How many times do you have to be knocked down before you can't pick yourself off the ground?
How much taunting and teasing does one have to do before it finally kills you?

Imagine being born into a family that loves you very much.
They work hard to provide for you and give you what you want.
Your mom works two jobs to provide for your basic needs.
Your dad works too, works 24/7, to make sure you get food to eat.
There's no money for toys or fancy clothes, but that's okay with you.
You still manage to smile, happy as always, doing what you love to do.

Now imagine being judged, taunted, ridiculed, insulted; for enjoying the little you have.
By someone who's rich with everything they want, but who's also incredibly sad.
And this sadness inside has messed with their head, it's not fair that you get to smile.
She is rich, she has so much money, but she secretly hates her life.

Imagine this person has made it their job to bring down your mood.
Imagine this person, knowing you're poor, always spits in your food.
Imagine this person, wearing their fancy clothes, throws you in the trash.
Imagine this person, that you don't even know, has made being alive sad.

You used to smile everyday, thanked your parents for what you had.
You never cared about the clothes you wore, you never thought you looked bad.
But this one kid who was upset with their life, took out their anger on you.
The words she said and the things she did had changed your point of view,
On life. You hated it, now you just wanted to die.
The pain she's caused is so immense you now longer loved your life.

That person who decided to ruin your life, to make life seem more "right".
Now that you have lost your joy she can finally sleep at night.
She's stolen your smile, killed you inside and she knows she's caused you pain.
But see, she thinks she was wronging some rights, so she is finally sane.
But you, you've lost all will to live. It'd be better if you were dead.
And so that's constantly in your thoughts, would people be happier instead?
You don't wanna believe it'll help anyone, what would your parents do?
They'd no longer have to work all night, cause no you means more food.
No you means more money, they can finally be at peace.
I would have never imagined that my parents would be better off without me.

It's 4 in the morning and I am awake, writing my parents a note.
I've told them I love them and because of that, its time for me to go.
I'll be gone forever, there's no bringing me back, as I will have bled to death.
You can find my body, drowned in the tub, clear water that would have turned red.

So she walks to the tub and fills it up, takes her clothes off and slips inside.
She tells herself, this suffering will end. Finally I can die.
And so she grabs the blade, closes her eyes and places it on her skin.
Drags it across, lets out a quiet sigh and lets herself sink in.

But I'd wonder what comment could be so bad, you would feel you're better dead than alive.
What was said to her, that made her lose her will to survive.

Was it the person who judged her for what she wore?
Was it the harassment she faced for being poor?
Was it the comment about her unwashed dress or was it the ripped shoes?
Was it her being told she would always be poor or was if the spitting in the food?

It shouldn't even matter what insult was said.
Her being happy and poor doesn't mean she deserved to be dead.

"Don't judge a book by its cover", it also means by class.
Being of a lower class shouldn't result in being harassed.

It's not something anyone chooses, so be careful what you say.
Cause once its said, it can't be forgotten and someone's life might be taken away.
"If at first you don't succeed, try and try again."
"If at first you don't succeed, try and try again"
"If at first you don't succeed, try and try again"
How many times do I have to fail before I can succeed?
How many times are you going to lie to me?

"Fall down seven times, stand up eight."*
"Fall down seven times, stand eight."
"Fall down seven times, stand up eight."
How many times do I have to get knocked down before I can stand up straight?

I'm a failure, I am bruised.
The only thing I can do is lose.
I've lost my battles and my fights.
And I will not be alright.

If you've failed once, then twice, then thrice,
Give it up, you've lost your fight.
Fall down eight times?
Please stay down.
You're better off lying on the ground.
Please don't give me false hope.
If I message you, don't respond if you won't talk to me.
It's just a simple request.

I can't talk to you for a minute each day,
when I want to talk to you well through the night.
Don't bother saying hi if in the next second you'll be saying bye.
It's just a simple request.

Above all else though, don't make it seem like you miss me.
Not when my heart is aching because of how much I miss you.

You say you miss me, you talk to me for a minute
and then you find something more important to do.
I free my time up to talk to you and you waste it.
Please just forget about me fully so I can get over you.
You are already halfway there.
It's just a simple request.
I can't do this anymore.
I can't message you first hoping you message back.
I can't sit and wait for you to remember me.
I can't keep missing you.
I won't keep missing you.
I just, I can't do it anymore.
What good is it to ask for help when your mind is already made.
Involving others in some sick and twisted game.
You hurt yourself and in the process you've hurten others too.
And not just someone passing by, someone close to you.

You know they care and want to help, they plead for you to stop.
And so you postpone the task for a while. You two start to talk
About how you hurt and you start to share those bottled up feelings with someone who cares.
But it doesn't help cause you're still hurt and you are to blame.
It was you after all who wanted to feel more pain.

I've given up with calling out and asking you for help.
Maybe if I was stronger for you, you'd be more open yourself.
I hate knowing your hurting and not being able to give advice to you.
You help me through my problems but there's never anything I can do.
So to fix this, maybe make it easier on your part, I'll keep my mouth shut.
I'd prefer if we both had each other, but I have no control over that.

Guess I'll just go back to feeling like **** and pretending like I'm not upset.
I may feel like crap but if no one can tell, I can say I'm a good actress
Next page