My Place

A firm believer of not looking for a hero but being one yourself

But here I am at the midnight hour crying for help.

Was never one to need a soul – believing I could do bad all by myself.

The truth came forth different you could hear it in the sound of my yell.

Fear is for cowards and is highly frowned upon.

Then to them I am the queen because from myself I constantly run.

Like the Navy I am about being all I can be.

The thought of this sometimes is very frightening to me.

Like king, I have a dream.

One might say too many,

It’s understandable because like Penny I belong to a proud family.

Coming up as child I knew failure was not an option.

Poverty is laid to rest it will not overcome my generation.

Not having anything for so long makes you feel the need to conqueror the world.

This is the true story of a broken girl.

“What you see is what you get” is a phrase I live by.

Now what you see is called blessed by the MOST HIGH.

Coming up my only goal was to make money so my family could live well.

Buy my mom and dad a nice house and move them out the hood.

My brothers that I love we fought life dogs in the ghetto they demonstrate that we live in a ‘dog eat dog type world’.

Trouble was my middle name matter of fact you can even say my last.

When I came around they knew peach would seldom last.

Happiness was a luxury I could not afford

So on anger and hatred I feasted always wanting more.

Living for God was never one of my priorities

Which is ironic because growing up a yawd church was mandatory.

Love was only existent in fairy tale books.

Beauty was far from me and to me the image of the beast stuck Daddy’s little princess did not consider herself to be royalty.

Rather saw herself as useless trash who lived in the margins of society.

At age 12 she discovered she had a mind of a hustler and body of a model.

Maybe this is the reason she was fondled.

I took time to think about what you see me write.

The truth must come about whether wrong or right

For 15 years I longed to hear my father say he loved me with mouth.

This was the making of a troubled girl no doubt.

Looking for love in all the wrong places I became cold to world.

Living without love was my plan.

It was another way to make it through this world.

The first time I saw my mother cry that’s when I understood love.

My father raised his hand and I wanted to kill him because he was hurting the one I love.

My family was dysfunctional if you could not already tell

And in this dysfunction until I found my place well.

Written in Tanzania