Glancing at Me Sitting with myself, I detect the grief From the unkept locs, to the crooked stained teeth Battle wounds cover me from head to feet What might one think, glancing at me? You see, I have endured quite a few blows Busted lip, eyebrows stitched, even a broken nose Rejection, isolation, but there is one we all know That hideous face of denial, behind our stunned growth I must remember, to remain leveled When life delays plans, ruining my schedule We all have our problems, some of us have several That fill us up with steam to lose our top like a kettle Wise is the woman who mumbles Closed mouth; ajar ears, now that's humble Humble is the beast, that conquers all with no muscle No flexin, just finessin my entire way through this jungle
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