blurred lines.

something isn’t right.

i have bullet holes,

but they aren’t from fights.

i got stab wounds,

something isn’t right.


i got these tattoos when all i saw was blurred lines.

all that’s left of these tattoos are blurred lines.

you don’t love me any more? —

oh well that’s fine.


i remember when i dropped a dollar for a dime.

the shit i say doesn’t even matter, guess i should stick to miming...

people are trying to keep up,

but they can’t so they are double timing.


i’m leaning and im not talking about sprite with codeine.

no amount of drugs could ever blur the line you drew between you and me.

i couldn’t tell whether you or the drugs were more condescending.

all my life i was told i was winning a battle; I really was losing.


from these niggas with no souls, no heart, no mind—

blurred lines got me questioning my sobriety.

this heart break truly isn’t even a surprise to me.


please understand I can only take so much at one time

    the more you spit, the more you kick...

the more blurred these lines can get. 


something isn’t right,

i got bullet holes.

but they aren’t from fights.

i got stab wounds.

something isn’t right.


through the tears—

i see blurred lines.

i see the hearts I fought for—

while I tore down mine.

i see all the hands that weren’t always so kind.

but when I jump through hoops—

i don’t see anyone on the sidelines.


i told you i’d love you from the moon and back.

if it was possible maybe even more than that.

but you're playing me— even i can see that.

tell me why, these blurred lines are back.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


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