Stop hoarding your art

What’s holding you back?

You don’t think that it’s good?

You not writing all facts?

You’ll might be misunderstood?

[Scared your art is too “Black”?]

—

No one hurts more

From me not sharing

Than me.

[I’m thinking selfishly again.]

No one hurts more

From me not sharing

Than those who my art

May help,

May heal.

Poetry feels,

[Mine kills

Whoever seeks to steal my joy]

Whether that’s:

[A weak man with a badge

Rude adults that’s talk down

Fake friends slitherin’ ‘round

Or haters from my hometown.]

Sadness, or madness

[Another destructive ploy

From the system which benefits]

When we all feelin’ depressed.

[From a system that drains your life

In exchange for a check.]

Or them relationship

We trapped within

[While we holdin’ the key

Or those thoughts that tell us

We could never truly be

Free]

You see,

Art is meant to tell a tale

And heal us all

With an unwavering hand

Prepared to help you when you fall

In the midst of it all,

I learned I can’t be defeated.

Nothin’ holds me down.

So why am I holding back?