Last time I said this I was crying
I'm not afraid to say it, the last time I said this
I was crying.
Inner child beating on my rib cage
I remember it so vivid, so vivid up until this day
the last time I said this I was crying
and as that tear rolled down my cheek
past the lump in my throat that I couldn't swallow
I didn't understand what they had planned for me tomorrow
The last time I said this
It was a cold day in september
exchanging words with a friend
outside a church if I can remember
and a person I hold close word's
now paraphrased in text
said my Art wasn't worth
the figures written on a cheque
instantly a rage built up in side of me
making me blind to see the 3rd can of
strongbow she had sipped which in turn
making her blind to much her words may
have ripped.
They said I was born
with a gift,
I said I was cursed
with talent
then left alone to manage.
Alone. No direction. No recipe.
So I grafted. Slammed through
page after page, went to meeting
after meeting. Listened to every
lecture thrown my vicinity
and then some –
till out of all
my pores oozed creativity
but unlike Da Vinci
I found beauty in a
lack of symmetry
I crafted myself into
the Vitruvian man
and asked the world
what do you see?
A response was given loosely
radiance.
like I was the new Basquiat
staring at the untitled skull
like it was a portrait of me
warm on a surface
sporting an expression
that makes you question
Is it all worth it?
For you, I've given my mind body & spirit
so it safe to say I'm yet to see my worth defined
by a digit.
The last time I said this I was crying
I'm not afraid to say it, the last time I said this
I was crying.
Who else can I trust to write my legacy but me?
I may never be the greatest, But I will be the
greatest success story the world has ever seen
chapter two.