© Nov 14, 2016. All Rights Reserved.
I’m something like a grown minion,
Left with an opinion,
Reflecting on when I had erectile dysfunction.
When I was 22, I reached puberty.
Suppress my desires. Nothing’s new to me.
I’m said to be a child. I receive not one apology,
But then I’m said to be a grown ass man.
I’m talking, but fuck the cameraman.
Everyone’s human, but a racist isn’t better than.
Rewind to explain. This story’s arcane.
Euphemisms are like hand-me-downs in the brain.
No gifts are like plagiarism. It’s insane.
Right now, I may sound awkward.
I just want my voice heard.
I don’t like to speak, but it’s preferred.
Let’s start from when I was a child.
I was never really wild.
Those were memories of when I smiled,
Greeting nature, animals, and objects.
Growing, I showed deathlike silence as one of many rejects.
I learned to hate all school subjects,
Wonder what’s my point, but I’m getting there.
I was watching wrestling with a stare.
I was a nonconformist appreciating the air.
I was a timid boy with the pipe dream of being a wrestler.
My expression of depression was very familiar.
I had scrawny arms. They’d grow when I’m older. No sir!
I’d get pummeled countless times every day,
By an older brother who acted sort of gay.
No offense, but let’s focus on me. Okay?
But to focus on me, I have to focus on others.
It’s probably great I don’t have many brothers.
I was breastfed and ditched. It’s like I have two mothers,
But I have a mother figure. Sort of. That part’s probably for later.
I was 8 when I was ditched, abandoned, or whatever.
Are those wounds worth killing over? Never.
Let’s talk about what’s going on. I didn’t have to be shy.
I never had a girlfriend. Why?
For some reason, I used to want to die,
But never could attempt to finish the job.
Speaking of jobs, I never had one. I’m not a slob.
My said no. I’m one step closer to twisting every door knob.
My brother was animalistic in school. Mental disorders do that.
I was looked at worse. It was tough enough I didn’t like being looked at.
I hated greeting, but I couldn’t talk to women even if they were fat.
Not that anything’s wrong with a body size.
I’m not perfect. I wore glasses. Something was wrong with my eyes.
Even teachers were bullies. It got worse. Surprise.
The school forced me to ride a short, yellow bus. Hush.
They assumed I was like my brother. To assume is to rush.
He met another girlfriend at the mental facility. Oh, did she blush.
I was that lonely loner going on field trips. Good.
I hoped I wasn’t blamed for breaking a wall at home. There went my manhood.
My brother forced me to edit Hollywood tapes. Always, I was misunderstood.
He forced me to draw, comic books, write stories, and role play.
I fucking hated doing what he wanted. Let’s just say, my dad seems gay.
I haven’t said enough. Okay?
Anyway, it get worse. My dad literally spent 8 hours yelling.
The subjects? Religion, family, and school. How foretelling.
I’m isolated. It’s like my soul was swelling.
My talk isn’t for revenge. Relate or hate. Heal when you hear this.
I’ve never been to an open mic. The microphone could be dressed in piss.
I’ve never broken a promise.
My brother got kicked out the house. I got threatened to get kicked out.
So much for feeling good. Fill my goals with every ounce of doubt.
I thought of goals, but they were crushed. I won’t pout.
He forced the pentecostal to Jehovah God on me. Dreams are crushed.
He told me to talk to my brother. I was compared to him. Everything’s rushed.
They both changed religions. Dad forced me into college. I was hushed,
Only to remind him I didn’t want to go there. He threatened to kick me out.
He spent hours yapping about what I’ll do with my life. 8 hours about.
Besides wearing the same 7 shirts every day, I graduated.
Ooh the fuck wee! But what did I see? No one related.
It wasn’t my dream. I mean, I said I wanted to go to film school once. Situated?
That’s just a little bit of my life.
But I can be related to the an abuser? I wont have a wife.
No one will date me. I kept staring at the knife.
I stared at many weapons. My only option was my craft. Pretty real.
Maybe you’ll know when I make you squeal.
Time’s almost up, but my purpose is to heal.
I’m just a human just like you who heard the “N” word by family members too.
The “N” word with the “er” at the end, but it’s no different than any of you.
My life started here, so thats the clue.
Isaiah Lawrence 