Friday, August 29, 2008

once a child..

i am me.
i am a sinner
i am not curvy
i am particles of my past and future tense
i am black like my coffee with a dash of cream
i am west indian so i speak with an accent
i am imperfect and i have trouble with that sometimes
i am slow to make a fuss or a noise, a weakness? i have to ask
i am patient and too kind, but hey i don't mind
(someone has to be)
i am an underachiever, a good listener and i cry sometimes
i am not pretty but i look good so i've been told
(whatever that means)
i'm emotive but don't get me wrong i can be strong
(when i need to be)
i am losing my passion
i am losing my love, my lover
so it goes...

i am shaped by everything, molded by different hands
i am all the pain that you've been through
and now i'm looking to my shadow
i am looking beneath the surface
to get a clearer view...

i am seeing you with new eyes.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

great poem! you sound like a really interesting person.
please don't lose your passion,
i really like yours.

maaga..... said...

e. bailey..
thank you.