Old Beginnings


I have an uncompromising urge to travel oceans and seas on boats.
I need to tote my way across the world.
Because for my entire life I've felt as if I were lost.
Surely throughout these days I've paid the cost,
For being forced as an American, African and educated.
But I'm still constantly fighting my way through hatred.
All these blank stares cause me to question my sanity.
Knowing without vanity, I'd seem empty and the opposite of canny.
And though these words are filled with dialect,
One still manages to neglect what's heard.
One does not feel me pour my heart out on these pages,
Because of constantly denying what's real.
But can I live?
Can I have my dreams panned out?
Can I actually live them out, without hatred and doubt?
Or is life supposed to be harder for someone like me?
Three negatives.

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