But That’s Just Me

I used to cry a lot.

So I wonder if the reasons changed or if the seasons changed.

I would wonder about the future me, but live in the past and enjoy it.

I've been blessed to be a mess.

I'd dress to unimpress to relieve myself from from the stress of trying to be the best.

But that's just me.

Once or twice in my life I've been motivational and inspiring; so that means that I've kissed every sunrise before it touched your face.

But I've also been in a place that's been so tiring.

A place where every gun owns a person and every bullet owns a name.

Where they don't get tired of firing.

So I'd think to move, right?

But I'd cry, un-impress, inspire, and then tire all over again.

A pen for every again and again and again.

And I don't think my pen gets tired, I just think my people get tired of being uninspired to motivate anything in this life that's been fired.

But that's just me.

I know my worth, so I'm just waiting on you.

But if you don't know your worth and I do, then collectively we are nothing until you learn to.

But once upon a time I lived as you until my seasons changed.

My spirit became bright as us black people.

My spirit became bright as us black people!

It became as. bright. as. black.

The result of when my reasons changed.

I hope you read this twice.

I hope you taste my spice.

I hope you understand me sweetly, yet incompletely.

So when you forget to be you, just think of me.

Because black you is black me.

And black you is we.

But that's just me.