This is a piece I wrote a few years back. I actually like it, considering that I'm not too fond of my previous writings.
Trying to live perfect in an imperfect world
Braving the elements, still feeling helpless
Don't want to be selfish, but right now it's all about me
My joy, my pain, my lost, my gain
Climbing mountains, only to reach deserts
My soul is parched, thirsty for knowledge
Hungry for growth, full of depression
Trying to learn the lesson, but to no avail
They told me I couldn't cry because I'm a man
Didn't quite understand, so I told them it was my allergies
They handed me a tissue, said my forehead was sweating
In actuality, my brain was crying from all the pain
I tattooed hands on my back, wasn't feeling wings
Not trying to fly away, just want help holding the world on my shoulders
Getting older, and with "mo' age comes mo' problems"
I know they say with "mo' money", but ask yourself, is Bill Gates feeling like me right now
Young, black, and gifted? More like young, black, and targeted
Trying to get lifted, but keep falling
Trying to walk the path, but keep stumbling
Damn this world is heavy.
