Is it me, or does it seem that times are hectic?
I search for brighter days, but me,
my life needs a daily inspection.
I wonder, are we killing the dream our king
The very things our generation neglects
our kids will reject. But how can we know what’s
inside if we don’t dissect?
I seek truth, but in truth there are no tangibles.
So, I’ve found myself grasping lies in a really distorted.
Buying into a life my soul can’t afford.
Speeding to destruction and sowing discord,
my void couldn’t be filled so I must change course.
No longer shall I assume but stand on facts.
I’m humble, I’m kind, I’m intelligent, I’m black!
I’m a man with flaws, to my character it gave substance.
I can never say life gave me nothing,
when in fact it made me something.
Now every night I pray, as I lay me down to sleep
that I quake every day in pursuit of discovering
a better me.
See all poetry for Walter Stewart #02089060