God would be ashamed of the man I am.

The way I‘ve handled this journey is deplorable.

How do you turn around a fate that is too far gone?

Actually, God would be ashamed of the boy I still am. I’m no man.

My temperament is trash.

My potential has capped.

I’m trash.

My oh my.

these are the words that subconscious voice whispers to me daily. when the the light ones i can share publicly lol.

Busy bullding my withIn dependence.
Because with him I’m standing.
Taller than any obstacle while still reaping the negativity of my karmic sentence.
To tell you what I really mean I have to pen it.
All the self deprecative words was me paying penance.
I know I’m past redemption.
Each poem is my inner sinner’s confessions.

Reflection that rips my heart in two.
I pray to God that I regain all my beautiful.

I’m down to my last prayer.
I’m sure who I was supposed to be has long left here. 

My unhealed soul.
And all the unsurgeoned holes that I bleed through.
I lost a hold of myself through believing that I need you.
I couldnt find God in myself his messaging was see through.
The only place to find the divine was within my own seed’s view..

Couldn’t you hear me when I was screaming?
Or making underhanded deals with my demons? 
I threw the towel in 11 rounds ago but have to keep weary of the damaging schemes.
I stood tall even with my buckling knees.

Starting to remember how to forgive myself.

For staying too long where I didn’t want or need to be.

For putting me last.

For losing sight and a hold of the best parts of me.

For believing I was worthless.

For all the unkind words I’ve spoken and written to me.

For lost moments and ungratefulness.

For putting the pen down too often.

For knowing where certain destructive paths would lead but still walking down them alone.

For living for what I wanted things to be, and struggling to accept all as it was.

For wavering connections with God.

For losing a winnable battle. And trying to win battles I should have been okay win losing.

For all the unplaced and untamed anger I hold.

For the venomous words I’ve spewed.

For days spent in the mirror calling myself an Ugly piece of shit.

For putting dying situations on life support.

For not drinking enough water.

For not reading or creating enough.

For not clearing out my hair and then having to literally lose so much damn volume.

For not exploring all the things that make ME happy.

For chasing too many sunsets and not living enough days.

For stagnancy , and lethargy.

For not exploring more music.

For the prayers I keep inside instead of just sending them to the ether.

For all the days I feel like I needed …

For not loving myself while I lived in the absence of love…

I’m not good enough. I haven’t been . I may never be.

I’m not enough.

I have to be honest with myself.

What kind of man am I? Not the one I wanted myself to be. Far from it. Far from a provider. Far from a giver of peace. Closer to the things I hate than to becoming what I expect of myself.

Who could love who I am?

I’m angry. Ashamed. Embarrassed. Broken…

Bye :).

And that’s on who I used to be.
Ten plus years of anger unreleased.
Mf would never have a friend in me.
Gym days to ensure these hands will sleep the next bitch boy that tries me heavily.
words will never cut D.
but one more lick of disrespect will be the end of…. 

The pen is what was needed.
Only dying leaves are growing from my damaged seedlings.
No longer have a place left to release shit. 
I didn’t learn my lessons, so God made me repeat them. 
I would’ve gave it all so she’d receive it. 
These are lost thoughts coming to light so you all can see em.
My pad’s my secrets’ keeper.
The pen plays needle.
On nights i need to stitch my mental’s loosened pieces.
This is deeper and indecent.
I took on the mantle of living every feeling.
Every page i write holds the hidden code for me receiving all my healing.
I’d be the heel in every story if the balance starts to even.

Midnight walks, where it’s just me and these deepening thoughts.
Loving me is a losing cause.
I’m no longer who the world thought I was.

pause.

let’s take it back, let’s just restart.
it’s really just me and this troubled heart.
i wish me and depression were far apart.
whatever I am is not what you want.

think.

i kinda remember when life was sweet.
maybe for me , in 2003.
thats the last time my inner child was geeked.
all that i am, is everything you see.

there’s nothing underneath.  

I’m past redemption. 
The world’s most troubled son. 
Where does the first ounce of self believe start coming from?

i knew my karmic sentencing 
meant pain and  penance.
i have to keep hope that this fall rain replenishes. 

I dont think i’ll make it through one more cold winter.

This is to the soul I lost too long ago.
And all the damage I’ve cause to its home. 
I wish you the peace that I have never known.
these are prayers called from a disconnected phone. 
Just know I need you though.
i want to look in a mirror without feeling ugly and cold. 
Maybe well enough is you leaving me all alone.