Well shit....

Didn’t ask to be here, but I’m here.

Doin’ this thing called life that folk fight for, others wait to escape from.

I’m here hell, don’t gotta remind me none.

I blink eye, I touch things and think even when its hard to.

I’m here wit you.

I see it all too, cause hell I’m here too.

I shoved it, yeah I shoved it aint nothin’ new.

Shit I’m just like you, him and them too.

I shoved it, but not before sitting back and pokin at it.

Why they do that to me like that? Why you aint care for me?

Protect? Think of me even if it was just a lemon squeeze in water to make lemonade

- Watered but still bitter in taste cause aint shit sweet ‘bout this cup infront me.

Aint you hear me needing you still believing in you as my temple became barren of blessing.

No congregation gathering or offerings of precious metals but decaying as foundations

shift through weather changes.

Looking in the mirror I have to ask… what kind of shit is this?

I aint ask to be here, what kind of shit is this?

That they can do this to me; take a blank slate and write whatever see fit.

Wipe it away but the message is still there.

Wrinkles remain still from a hand that thought it enough to glide over the damage.

So I poke n’ prod, swallowin the salt as it packs wound.

Shit long as it aint need amputate, I’m fine I can keep movin.

So I shove it, yeah I shoved it deep back where it cant be found.

Cause I aint ask to be here, but dammit I got shit to do today….

An original poem by Lana Kayne