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Feb 2015
White walls.
Plenty of time,
Is what the boy thinks.
He can't swim
But he jumps in the pool
And hopes he doesn't sink.

The pool has white walls.
Blankness is what I see.
Being able to create what I want
I see things that others do not.
At least that is what I think.
To me they are ghost that haunt.

Me
I see myself
Not free
Sometimes
There are things
I cannot see.

White walls in the jail cells
But one wall is pure bars.
I am a caged beast.
Those people there
who call me friend
know me the least.

I say what I mean.
Do what I say.
As soon as I hear the beat.
I live for dreams.
The ones I cannot control.
Which is why I love to fall asleep.

On these walls I see my flaws.
My flaws create my past pain.
Looking at these walls keep me from changing.
200 years ago
I could have had it worse
And would have been slaving.

No I'm not Django
Or even Jamie Foxx.
I am more of a Jaden Smith.
Why?
Because they don't understand my drift.

But I do
That's all that really matters
Understanding self
First
Priority.

I may be jading quickly
Turning into a white wall.
Pale
Blank
Silent
Unless I express myself.
John Byrd
Written by
John Byrd  Detroit
(Detroit)   
670
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