I promise more than I can keep
Please don't judge me for that
You make me so happy
Well, at least that's what I say
I guess I am happy
But still when I am left alone
The thoughts get back
And I feel sadder than before
Because I think I should be happy
I am broken. Or what?

Tastes like there's something in the water
No word from the wise yet, of recompense
Who put this zombie in me?
I trudge, judge, shamble, stumble
Who put this zombie in me?
I speak in numbers
I see in perfect white blank
Space that makes me thirsty

The thick smell of bureaucracy emanates from all,
The jury in the courtroom,
The students in the hall.
Eyes and ears determine,
What only hearts can know,
A gavel banged within our minds,
Closed curtains on the show.
A furnace flickers brightly, into it lives are thrown.
We peck at those we've never met,
Until there's only bone.
Strangers smile warmly,
Although it causes pain.
Books that have no covers,
Belong to the insane.

We're too quick to judge
Rash/ Fowl/ Harsh
In our thoughts and words

Who are we to judge another
Soul/ Heart/ Mind

We're we not all children once?
Happy/ Hurt/ Hopeful

Slowly transforming into adults
Irrational/ Unreasonable/ Selfish

At times of Fear/ Doubt/ Hate
Let us remember
Love

denial seems to be our specialty
blinding ourselves from what we even could have loved
in honor to the essence of reality
we follow whatever convenience seems right
a come back or a fall down are too similar
same monster just another mask
denigration is just another vice

we judge so we can fill our empty sorrow
to pass the pain away
like anestesia for our sorrow
we denigrate the ones who fulfilled our mandate
we dishonor the ones who are not ashamed
deep inside we wish we would be like them
but they made it
and we are restrained

they judge me from my hair to my hips
They judge me by my lips, they criticize my weight because I'm considered thick
Not matter what degree I achieve they still considered me a little black B** , but I achieve like I'm dr Martin Luther king, folllow my dreams into it's a reality but the truth still remains that my own kind is  a hot commodity,
**** my brother because he speaks of his knowledge **** my brother because his skin is like a hot designer **** my brother because he's the true definition of a YOUNG BLACK KING

But they judge because We have risen from the chains, we have found a voice to speak like our brains but yet you judge me for my skin but in this world of sin you remake my people color your skin  and braid your hair like my sister, but you Judge me why not stand beside me and hug me cause I am the voice of my people and this letter is only a spin off to a real life sequel

A better choice in dulce vita
where the bucket list glorious of Italiano
still major in Tuscany with Firenze
where espresso and towering inferno of pleasure
which plenty now profane only marginalize Athens
while Constantine would have his chalice a true major in language  
that Rome alight the world in gardens.