Urban Freedom Magazine Fall2016 "The New Black Wall St" Vol1 | Seite 14

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A poet has become a professor of Language before English was sold as $ 199 per credit . A motivator has been a world changer before politicians pretended to have goals . I ' ve have been an activist for the soul before I even knew I wanted a degree in Law … Soul justice has always been in me !
Its taken 23 years to let go of an ideal given to me since the age of 5 . Forsaking some things does not mean you aren ' t pursuing your dream ... Maybe it ' s possible to live and dream simultaneously ! What IF ! ... your dream came without so many extra strings ? Would it not be as valuable ? If your Journey is different but allows you to end your last days Free that is now considered crazy ?!
Color Me at the door of madness then , It really doesn ' t matter what anyone calls . See that was my souls whole point in introducing my being to my human body . To live a life dancing without making sure everyone else can hear the melody . So if I dance just let me do my thing ... YOU KNOW … A Vivrant Thing !

Reflection

By Melanin Reigns
You are a reminder of my low self esteem You remind me that the self love I preach isn ' t the self love I see And the self love I seek Has yet to bring me peace You , You are a reminder of my broken pieces
The little girl teased one too many times Smiling on the outside but inside I ' m dying
And the �ashbacks YOUR PRESENCE gives me is the reason I remain so reliant
You , You are a reminder of my far too absent father
No love or consideration for a daughter who now wears the scars of his self in�icted wounds The spirit of a child gone too soon molestation has a way of draining the life right out of you They tried to feed me comfort with just a fork and no spoon And I guess that ' s why their efforts fell straight through And you I guess that ' s why with every move you trigger this memory Of a rapist taking advantage and a father never defending me The 9-5s that brought tears to mothers eyes for being the one that sent me there I suppose it ' s not your touch I fear But the memories of being abused still live here And the lack of time spent Is no more than a re�ection Of the role of this vessel that is masculine You , You remind me of my father