You said that I could never do it.
All along, my plight has not been
to prove you wrong; but I will. Watch me.
I can do this… make it a living,
make it a life by these letters
brought to life in words.
It already consumes me anyhow,
although you did not appreciate it
when I was a little more secretive about its existence.
I wanted to share it with you, desperately,
needed you to understand me.
I needed you to HEAR me,
but you never wanted to listen.
You called it “shit” and sent me on
to waste my time “more logically.”
I will make something of these words; I promise.
You will hear me, in their silent delivery…
you will know that all along this voice was strong.
This voice longed for you to love and accept it as it was-
you may never comprehend these words of mine,
these rhymes I design, but you will know,
you WILL see that through them,
through this exhibition of my mind
there was a lifetime of hope,
unsettled pain, open communication
that I longed to give to you-
all of it, just bearing my soul to your eyes
even when you refused to see.
These letters are designing my life yet
you still say that I cannot do it.
Oh, I will. Just watch me.