not a journalist.

I am not a journalist,

Neither a poet, nor a rapper ,

I'm just a writer of my feelings ,

And how it comes out after,

Comes out,

On paper I just be spilling,

My heart and if I'm willing,

Write as long as I can deal with.

Bunch of sentences running on,

Never running on,

Learned to face my giants ,

Learned to be strong.

You gotta adapt ,

Though the world be wrong,

They locked my brother in a cell,

Know he ain't ever coming home .

Learned to accept ,

That "free my brother" macho crap ain't working,

Wasting money on t-shirts .

When the gas prices high , it's like they on reefer.

Back in school we learned a lot ,

But there was nothing they could teach us, About growing up,

About the world and her frigidness.

Druggies robbing for a fix,

Priests raping little kids.

Lord please protect my family , from the craziness they blaze us with.

I told you I'm no poet though.

Neither a rapper or a journalist.

I write what's on my heart, &

At the time I was feeling this .

Much like I was feeling Sarah from the fifth to the twelfth grade.

8 years and I never got the chance to say a thing.

Or even mention my name,

Dang my heart was in so much pain,

At every mention of her name,

Drove a young man insane.

Cause I was so shy, you would've thought that's where the bulls played.

Even put a rose in her locker,

All my homies told me I would never get her.

Who would've known: their words ring true.

Man it must've been fate , got a young man feeling blue.

I'll get over it.

Get over it !

Get over it !

You still mad at last year ?

Build a bridge and get over it.

Forget holding grudges ,

I'm more for keeping it moving .