Homegrown Hero (Poem)

I am making streetpoetsnyc.com my main and only website. So to reach this site you will find a tab on streetpoetsnyc.com (soon lol) that will direct you here…to my personal blog. You can still reach this blog through hrshreyalitee.wordpress.com. I love you.

Thank you for reading.

Enjoy my soul. Share yours with me…

(Poem begins)

I am a homegrown homeless heroine.

With bars nothing similar to uncover thoughts.

I write poems about hard bottoms and black feet.

While burning caution signs to embrace my fears I’m roaming the streets.

Like I just moved in.

I’m living out of the front room of my backpack pocket.

I’m looking for good green at yellow lights, I am afraid of stopping.

I am human.

Setbacks holding me up like nuces.

Keeping me down like payouts, and I want to be secure like an anchor.

I’m…obviously stained like dingy dungarees

See reality eventually takes emotions face, and reminds me the tears running will keep me in my place of being humble while I mumble.

See, the mold to make me lighter was heavy.

The only thing gaining on me was that weight on my shoulders, I knew that I… would get over. Cuz where I been was swearing me like top lips.

Hovering over every word that I’d spit.

Trynna cut me off like I’m not in my lane.

Leaving witness lacking what informative like incomplete sentences that I’m not checking for..

I am wide eyed.

Waiting for the present.

The only gift that will bring the peace I need. The air I breathe.

I wrote this to get me off my hinges.

To set me free.

I am less of a dove and moreso fly like a pigeon.

Trynna make sense of see-through ceilings.

Preferring clipped wings so I could just walk away from unfair dealings.

Hurt but still armed.

I am a new, I am ahnu.

Still filled with my grandmother.

Her last name’s, Nesbitt. First name’s, Grace. I am a mustard seed that don’t have to muster up faith.

I am privacy that don’t have to look for a place, I am here.

Praying for the masses while running in small circles.

Filling up shot glasses with good ideas before the cheers.

Keeping both eyes open cuz Murphy’s law will paint you purple.

Sending you through obstacles disguised as crisis. But don’t pick a crime before you pick your vices it’s…

Nigga thoughts picking our brains like cotton fields got us like this.

– Hrsh Reyalitee

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