“Am I a victim of things I need to maintain”
Words of the late Tupac Shakur
A thug who needed a place to let his head down
Cause the life he lived, came with discomfort
He was human, like me, like you, human
Early this morning I made a call
A call that would prove that history has no repeats
But man, oh man, was I up for a surprise
This is not the first time, this is a repeat of the many times
And to think taking a different approach would be a change
I take it I was wrong, again, for the many other wrongs
I have been Jack for a long time
Everytime I hop out the box, I get pushed back in
And everytime after that, I would have an excuse
Write it down, as therapy, what an excuse
Kick myself, say life’s a bitch, scratch my head, excuses
Like now, life’s a bitch right, excuse
This is not a poem, but written in the form of one, not an excuse
I have a stone in my shoe
Getting rid of it, brings a bigger one, after the other
Ten years is much as an excuse for more years to come
I have a grave yard field with them, one on top of the other
And I am sick of TRYING to bury the word “excuse”
My anger gets me heated, and this is much a release therapy
A place to let my head down and rest just a little bit
My phone is buzzing for life, and I’m disrupting from it
How do I recharge my own as easy as recharging a phone?
Where do I begin, I know from the bottom, but where?
Where are the doors I’m looking for, where are the ones I’m not?
Is God really with me, can He listen, will He open a door for me?
Or am I just a victim?
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