Letting go of stuff

I feel like throwing out the majority of my stuff and just starting over
I have stacks of plates for non existent guests and clothes for parties I never go to
I mean man I can’t even do what I’m supposed to with these things that take up space
They just hold me in place and then they’ll just turn to dust as I hold on to them
But then again people write stories that turn into books in boxes
And boxes are full of memories, some sharp, some faded
A good chunk of those boxes get shoved in a dark corner until forgotten or until someone opens it and gets a papercut


I got issues

No way to negate those feelings for things past
I’m reeling
Increasing unrealistic
The pain lasts
My mindset from back then keeps my bags packs
Don’t trust nobody
Can’t relax
Nobody understands I miss my dogtags
Uniformity was my only setback
Didn’t understand what ease I had
Never knew I was making things difficult
Just didn’t wanna be typical
Wanted to be my type
Thought rainbow was just right
Didn’t cure my headaches
Didn’t soothe my insides
I looked cool but I felt crazy
My goals in life are more than a little hazy
I’d love to say that it don’t phase me
But it breaks my heart
The discord, it pains me
Makes me feel obligated to explain things
But the trouble is I can’t pair the words together right
Everyday is disoriented
I can’t even sleep at night
I wish I had it together
But I guess I got issues

Becoming the Writer

This was the trouble
I wanted to make a song
But I ain’t have no rhythm
And I couldn’t sang
And I couldn’t dance
And so I wrote
Starting telling some stories
Glancing over my glasses
Got passionate for it and took a few classes
Started to share
Started to talk
Seems writing was my thang
The ideas wouldn’t halt
The ink flow was continuous
It was love
It was discontent
It was turnt up
It was drunk
It was calm
It got delirious sometimes
The ebb
The flow
Spoke to hundreds sometimes
Reading my thoughts is going along for a ride
Sometimes I’m too tame to be a roller coaster
I am the 86 Cadillac Deville going 85 on the freeway
Destination real no leeway
Hoping seizing the day is still in
Because before I was scared to go all in
I cared about so many insignificant opinions
I was listening to haters one,two, and they minions
Thinking I needed friends that could really get me
Them fakers got me
That wannabe thing was not me
That writing about things going on was all me
And yes if you’ve met me you’re part of my story
Whether naysaying or encouraging
Well that’s your convo with Jesus
For those of us trying to make it
I sure hope he sees us