On the first day of a New Year
Paper bleeds . No end or beginning of where the words slap the page . Futile cuts of suffrage . Despair . On coming down to Earth , my feet hurt I land so hard . All ' s fate in love and war , and the color of my skin . No bleaching cream shows justice to the light within . I dare to dream . My hand proves the stroke of midnight only scratches the surface . My brain is not attracted to misery — as one is led to believe . This new year ' s day , I will eat my black-eyed peas and just see where that gets me . I ' ve already sworn off Gemini men . Now resolved , it makes no difference where stars cross , or the sun-signs of men begin . Their lies are already told , and I am only here to record them . The history of facts , woe begotten from crumpled lube-stained sheets , always tell the story backwards . New hope — is yet to surrender to all the days that add up to be years . But this time still , if I had my way — I ' d get everything I want .
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