*PoetrySlam Challenge*
DAY2.
---Nobody else knows---
I didnt mean to do it.
I didnt mean to say it.
I mustve been a naughty kid.
Hit me with a stick.
I mustve been stupid.
Told me I was thick.
I didnt mean to do it.
I couldnt help myself.
I must have been a bad boy.
They threw me up against the wall.
I really was a twisted kid.
Thats why they beat me blue.
If I fall,
I'll call.
When you come from no love
Is it possible to love?
I was such a nosey kid,
always asking questions.
Get out of here,
you no good kid.
I did,
I ran from there.
I'd go and sit all by myself.
And dream my day away.
I'd watch the pillowy white clouds.
I wanted to fly a plane.
Wishing on stars.
Hoping on hopes.
Innocence reclaimed.
Some say that before we are born,
we choose the life that we are just about to live.
Like we program our life,
into existence?
We choose the life we live.
For real?
That can do a persons head in.
Make it spin.
All over the shop.
My brain dont stop.
I must have been a stupid boy.
I mustve been a disappointment.
If I chose this life, then I did that for a reason.
The mission.
To remember.
Because the thing is, we forget.
They forgot that they had been a kid once too.
That they too,
had been beaten.
We forget that others are going through what theyre going through.
Because we forget.
Writing poems helps me to remember.
To me a poem is all about me using words,
to express.
Make love and not war.
Write poems about the pain.
Sing songs about the hurt.
Share stories about the grief.
Share moments of gratitude.
Thats the attitude.
But we forget.
I mustve been a really bad kid.
Thats why she flipped her lid.
I mustve been the worst kid ever.
Thats why she didnt come back.
When I was a kid,
my nickname was,
Black.
My family have fair skin.
My Grandma was French.
My Granddad was dark skinned.
I took after him.
My family made me feel me blacker.
Because I was darker than the rest.
I remember hearing them call out to me -
Black!
Its funny the things that we remember.
Why am I choosing to remember all this pain?
I forget.
We forget.
Thats what Im saying.
What if I just remembered more of the good times?
Just a little more each day.
Remember my Grand mothers sweet and soft voice.
My Grandads laugh, as he cooked me breakfast.
My mothers smile.
My brothers and I would play tennis.
What if all I have to do is remember more of those times.
What if that was my mission?.
NobodyKnows
