Lens
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A year is the blink of an eye
That sheds a tear,
That makes things clear.
A lot can change,
And stay the same.
As the eye opens
And sees the light
What once was a blur
The light, the dark, the shade.
There's no bette feeling than knowing our place.
eventually, somehow, without trying, it slowly starts to fade away.
Before the memory fades, I capture it.
Flash before my eyes,
Who am I
Behind the filter of a picture
I am a man with very much to remember
I have a story that is not yet over
Black man living past 18 is the luck of a 4 leaf clover
The story that is not told
Through an Instagram lens its often hard to see the bigger picture
Every post is worth a thousand words
And some of them are meant to injure
