Tightrope

Tightrope

I move through anxious crowds.

Cameras flashing, everyone’s loud.

On a tightrope, with every word written

Because an old girl mentioned; could bring a new girl trippin' . Or a nigga caught slippin ' could bring a nigga gone missing.

With every confession,

I sit at this concession,

Drinking

I’m led deeper,

Falling from the pedestal at which they currently hold me.

Propelled by a force of strong feelings

Compelled to make it so I won't have to resort to drug dealing

And the momentum just builds.

The rope on which I walk gets thinner each step.

But I gotta move forward.

Each word I carefully plot.

And I make moves when the time is right.

Because one misstep, like, a single shuffle of my feet.

& ill plunge into the deep, abyss, called the streets.

So what is it to be a poet?  To write poems

What does it take?

Heart, strength, dedication

A dedicated strong heart that can’t break

A face that is remarkably stunning to a crowd,

A walk across a tightrope without once,

Looking down...