On My Way

I've always had a problem with being too critical of my poetry. For a long time I didn't show or write much poetry because I felt it didn't match up to the poems I had read as a child from authors whose career spans out longer than that of my own. I always thought of poems by such authors as Langston Hughes, Maya Angelou, Nikki Giovanni, Sunni p, Paul Lawrence Dunbar, Shakespeare, and many others, as perfect. Well I've realized in the past few years that nothings perfect and we can only hope to get as close to perfection as humanly possible by doing our best. So I have a notebook and I've named it "So close to perfection". I've named it this so I wont half-ass when it comes to writing anymore and by doing so, and giving my all, I hope to my works will be as close to perfection as I possibly could get. Soooo without further ranting here's a poem from this notebook.

On My Way

I have no heart felt story to tell
No long forgotten wish made upon a well
I'm not some ghetto child who made it against all odds
You see? I still have yet to make it
And as far as "against all odds"
I've still succumbed to some.
My Life...is not some inspirational piece of literature
where the protagonist survived through unwavering faith
I've had my doubts
And I've had my bouts
Fighting Life just to Live
I've had my wins and I've had my routs.
This Man...That stands here
Has been scared in the face of fear
...I'm not perfect
I'm so far from it that the pursuit seems like a long forgotten memory
from a life lived long ago
My rights have been outnumbered by my wrongs
So much so that I believe I have nothing left
I just want you to see that through my imperfections
I seek to be closer to perfection
closer to being
closer to you...

-The Harsh Truth