Let it go...

Personally, I feel sympathetic
To all of those who feel the way I do
You've seen the struggle
You live with the trouble
Working in the world of self-satisfaction
When all I do satisfies others but yourself
You're caught in a world of guilt for yourself
Self-pity is your momentum in cage
Created by society to keep dreams from happening
Remember to keep your focus in tact

Let it go, fall into the unknown
Let it go, you have nothing to lose
Let it go, watch your dreams unfold
Let it go, reach to something better

Your parents are struggling,
The teachers ain't teaching with righteousness
Since when is school a menace
To a child education or motivation
Dreamers are still dreamers
They can not be believers in themselves
The world becomes hateful
Children are taught to be spiteful
Instead of reminding us of love is

I'm not always happy to be me

Sometime I wake up in the morning, I look at myself in the mirror knowing that a hairdo reflects the personality that I'm feeling today. I look and stare at my skin really closely, to the point that I can spot every single pimple that are currently growing on my face. At times I can tell whether or not my face has cleared up, other times it seems as if my face has become the battlefield for the War of the Zits. Most people can't tell that I do have pimples, I actually don't wear make up. I just don't like it that much. So I wash my face the best I can with care knowing that they won't all disappear, however hoping that they did. I take the comb and I let untangle my hair, understanding that my hair hasn't grown that much since the night. Not that I have a problem with short hair, it's just that sometime I wish I had longer hair, because deep down I know that longer hair gives me that extra something to make me look more attractive. As if that specific day I have a need to be sexy, to be recognized for my feminity. It's weird I can't really explain it. The worst part is that half of the time it requires to look different. Sometimes looking different demands something too much to offer. For example, I won't look right playing basketball in candy curls. That is considered too extreme. Dressing up just to hang with your friends is considered too extreme. When I need that extra something for my hair or my clothes, it frustrates me. I feel like I should be better off, because nothing is helping me express what I feel I need to express. Which is my individuality, my sex appeal. So then I stare at the mirror confused and frustrated, knowing that it probably wouldn't matter anyway, right?
Then someone will come out of nowhere and tell you, that being you makes you different. You are you and that's all that matters. Somehow being you with all your problems and discomfort is a being an existing diamond in human form. Weird, huh? I am so focused on pleasing myself on the way that I want to look, that others are noticing the way that my individuality has already been expressed. Unbelievable, right?

Being S.A.N.D.Y.

Being S.A.N.D.Y. is like a mysterious puzzle trapped in the vortex. I can act like a happy camper be a bitter black woman. I can the housewife and be totally unhappy about it. I can be the girl next door and hunger for a life that can never be bought. I am unique in that nature. However I choose to be different from the rest and decide the life S.A.N.D.Y. needs to live. I allow S.A.N.D.Y. to make her own choices and fall for those who are out of her league. The thing is that she just does not see it. She dreams of the high class but is still attracted by the ghetto. She longs for the world's riches and yet can not seem to get past. She is surrounded by the vanity seen, and can not seem to get over it. She is a mindless robot who used to wonder around in circles for answers she already knew the answers to. I allow to think for herself. She now impresses no one else but herself. She is confident in what the good Lord has blessed her with. I have programmed her with the intelligence she needs to succeed. I do not allow to be anyone's doormat. Everyone knows their place around her. She chooses to no get too attached to anyone she has met in her life. That, my friend, is her decision. She believes that it will save her many unnecessary tears. I can not agree nor disagree to that statement. The girl, S.A.N.D.Y. is not all that you see. She believes that everything you see is exactly what you get. But no, truth be told, she does not open up truthfully to just anybody. She has her secrets, deep in her soul. Some secrets that she herself has not uncovered. Deep into the night, if you're lucky, she might give you a clue on her true personality. Depending on how you look at her, she was designed to appear on the cover on Vogue magazine. Her skin has a bronze caramel colour, slim, with the curves of Coca-Cola Classic bottle. Her eyes smile as each lash touch and make one. She has the skin of a fair maiden, the smile of a goddess on a Midsummer's Night Dream. She has created a mask that no one can see through though. She believed that she was doing the world a favour by hiding. But all that she was doing was killing the very essence of her existence. Her soul. She, my friend is S.A.N.D.Y., and she is the pearl within the shell. Hidden deep into the see, and once found she becomes a rare and priceless jewel. But the pearl goes to whosoever finds her. Satiety And Nonpareil Diamond Yet.

A Letter To My Father...

Dear Father,

You weren't everything that I wanted you to be. You were not like all the other dads my friends bragged about. You did not allow me to be Daddy's little girl, but that's okay I forgive. You did not allow to understand what a father was. You did not show what a husband was supposed to be like. You never showed how a man is supposed to love his wife, but that's okay I forgive you anyways. You continuously lie to me and expect me to continuously receive you with open arms. I just need to let you know that you have hurt me more, than anyone has ever hurted me. Your absence was one thing to deal with, but your return brought more than I ever bore within 18 years of my entire life. You allowed to me grow up without a man's love in my life. I never knew what a man's touch felt like, and I hungered for it for so long. My motivation to succeed in life was formed from hatred that I felt for you at the time. I blamed you for my low self-esteem. I did not, and could not understand what life was all about. My total strength came from a woman who faced death and succeeded to tell the whole world about it. You left my mother stranded with a baby and many debts to pay. You left hungry and at times bruised from the scars you repetitively re-opened. You made my life a living roller coaster. You opened an oportunity for me to live an unhealthy life. You are the root of my unhappiness. I could continue blaming you for my past conduct, but it would be disrespectful. I can not say that I want you in my life. That would be a lie. A long time ago I decided that I would do the same mistakes that my mother once. Well, because, having you in my life would require me to accept all the lies and deception that you offer any woman, and I am not that kind of woman. See father, I grew up and I decided that I create my own destiny. I chose the way I want to be treated by anyone and everyone I meet. I am nobody's doormat, and it doesn't matter the relationship that is there. I do not consider you as my father, you are only the root of my existence, after God of course. My mother had to search for you and you still don't understand what your children really need. I am who I choose to be, and I pick my parents. I have seen a father in action, because of the good people I know, I understand what a father truly does. But that's okay...I pray that you take care of your kids better than you took care of me. I just want to let you know that I don't hate you, and I forgive you.

Sincerely,
Your Daughter