March 9, 2009
By Octavia Jackson BRONZE, Statesboro, Georgia
Octavia Jackson BRONZE, Statesboro, Georgia
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I'm not the best.
But the air is clean that I breathe from my chest.
And not the most cunning, the best dress or most stunning.
Hundred miles a minute, mouth is running, and at the same time;
Hundred miles to nothing, I'm silent and observing.
Lust for life, wonders about a price
Strolling down the aisle, the fee was right.
Not the smartest, no talent, and where no art is,
As much love as I have, I find it the hardest.
Not cocky, not a menace.
Knowledge is money; I'm your meal ticket.
God's spirit, on some gangster ****
Somewhere in my heart is where the anger fits.
Sensitive and insecure, but not the only one.
Chose to use optimism just for fun.
This lyrical gun explodes before I begun; So what am I?
Am I just a repeat of failure? Overzealous?
Internally torn and tethered.
Motives and thoughts, processed mechanical drought.
Manufactured self-harmony thickness
Bought, reaching the mind with my slickness.
The lady who celebrates the beauty
The smile, soul, mind and heart are what I'm recruiting.
Together determined, we focus on futures.
Ignorance diluted in your ambience,
Your being I'm diffused into
Wondering what a few screws fuse into
Exude into the spiritual apparatus to expose what my soul goes after
A chance for you to finally know it's ME
Hoping to finally release myself through this poetry

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