The Return
This is the last time I allow you to break my spirit,
The last time my heart will be kept, trusted, and placed in your hands to crumble before your eyes.
I mean it.
I'm so done with swollen eyelids-with a depiction of a defeated soul.
I've had it with your destructive nature,
making up the fault lines in your face.
Tectonic plates shifting...
causing massive ego-quakes.
Thinking you the only one who walked on burning sands.
Your path is not the only one on fire.

I dare you to walk a mile down my path,
Hell I even challenge you to just stand in my shoes and see if your feet don't hurt.
And I'd give you the story behind rough patches or callus if I felt like your stomach could handle it.
These are the same ones since birth and when I learned to stand on two- it made it harder for this one.
But I'm pushin...
And I heard my sole say it's been keepin a record of how much shit I've been through.
So I answered back,
I was made for this shit.
And I be damned if the sea don't part
or
if the fire don't bow at the sight of me.
And I'd wipe my ass with your recognition, forgiveness, or praise if I thought my butt wouldn't get a rash from it.
I've already clapped and snapped for myself, so...
I could give a damn if you feel me...
-bitch I am fabulous, you couldn't step a toe in my shoe.
Besides,
I've decided to stop living my life like I need an applause anyway.
This right here is my redemption...
keepin me from stranglin a mofo and watchin they eyes roll back as they panic for air to pass through their throats.
Figuratively speaking.
I'm just saying the view looks so much better from up here.
So anytime you feelin froggy, come leap yo ass over here
so I can light a match under it and have you call me it this...
the return of the burn.

Ebpoetry