You big mad or little mad? That you can’t make me follow you just a tad, walking around like you all that and some jazz, awaiting what is due you.
Hating because my mental game is strong, I can foresee things by choice, but eventually as things always do….when, what you tried to have me think was facts and truth. Planting all your hints of seed by rooted voodoo. Falls down based on what you didn’t do, staring at the reality of being wrong!
I, neglecting the feelings of things being suspect. Faking like I believed that falsifying phony dialect. That was delivered in such a way that reject, was supposed, not an option. Often times, causing thoughts of regret, fighting the plight of seemly constant regress, feverishly.
Questioning shall I do more? Knowing full well what’s to come, how to prepare for all that is in store. Making a pimp choice/decision mentally on how to delay, decay specifically. Considering the source. Never allowing random room for dismay or real remorse. Studying as if, I have to compete? Quickly realizing that is the quickest way to succumb to defeat. Coming up with creative ways to camouflage the deceit.
©2016 Voncia Lesettajo Nichols
When you realize visual perception is a choice based on your own limitations. I won’t apologize for what I see and what I chose not to react to!
I can’t fix it
I take ownership of it
Plausibility that it was conducive to it
The grief of having to admit it
Carrying around the shame of it
Not being able to stop it
But what, I won’t do
Is act like I was prepared for it.
I won’t fake it
I make it…
I won’t kill myself
Over the heavy burdened grief of it
I won’t for the rest of my life
Keep apologizing for it
Or lying to myself
Saying that I can fix it
I forgive myself because
I desire a better life
The coping with the
Misery of it
I refuse to be a victim of it
Something that you told me stayed on my mind
Funny how time flies
With no more long drawn out goodbyes
Seeking levels were we both could be obliged
Trembling at the possibilities that could surely be on the rise,
Because we running around
Wearing faces of being victimized,
Villains in our own pitifully complicated demise!
©Voncia Lesettajo Nichols