Truly Me by Muslimah Davis

I'm conceived in a neighboring town

Unto a half-truth stereotype

In a home with bipolar love.

A house built on reckless memories

Founded in wild plains of hardships

As a poorly fortunate child

Life spell blissed, sprinkled

With colors of despaired terror.

Bubbly as the Sun but ignorant to

Life's current obstacles yet

Foreshadowed to be affected.

Bittersweet-ly the plains tasted

Of danger and familiarity entwined.

Where there was cackling of fireworks

I examined targetless bullet holes

In place that had a price of worthless

I saw everything known to be mine

If not roaming it, my face

Was shaded by technology.

Until I learned to hold the world in my hands

By the single binder tethering of a book

Along with that escaped my brain and heart

Though the shelves in my library consisted

Of past due belongings, I kept them tight

My shelves held items free but expensive

I, the poor beggar, could never afford it.

So for now I'll keep them with me and illegally

Until the day I am rich enough to buy them

As poorly as I am I'm gaining riches

From the very inkling of a pen to paper

Creating an extraordinary binding

In values of future expectations