Truth is
Now and days I rarely feel like myself
I run through life on auto pilot
Numb
Self confidence on a low
The pain in my chest
I rarely call a heart
Swells when I see her
And then proceeds to fall apart
Truth is
I'm not a smooth nigga
My words don't flow
I studder on the low
My poems lack
My looks are a facade
Swagg nonexistent
But I love hard
Which is invisible to most
She doesn't realize
That when she cries
I'll hold her close and never let go?
I'll cook her breakfast, lunch, and dinner along with all her favorite shows?
I'll make love to her passionately and slow?
Only to go fast when her moans say so?
Truth is
I feel as though I'll be difficult to love
I lack experience
And who has the patient?
It's a shame really
I'll try to work through it
I just hope
My first love
Knows what she's doing
