I will be a song growing louder
Rising
I will be sweet sweet sweet smelling incense
From an old Grecian temple
A tower of smoke
Light burden-less
Seeping into the unknown
A song growing louder
Rising
A song of praise
Incense
Dancing past the stars
I will settle on mars
Maybe
For a while
But I will not be
The Mrs.
To your Mr. so and so
I will be my own person
My own song
My own scent
I will sing my verse
With my nasal voice
I will dance the chorus
My own very dance
I will choreograph my moves
In an old room filled with mirrors
Looking upon myself
Unsymmetrical
Blemished
Awkward
And I will call myself beautiful
I will be the star in my song
Not the backup singer
My shadows will ooze from the spotlight
And I will sing my song
A song growing louder
Rising
I will be more than just another pretty face
Another pair of God kissed buttocks
Another lost African child
Another insignificant blotch of blackness
I will not be one of the
Innumerable fine silk threads
Millions
Fused melted sewed matched
Similar identical uniform alike
In together
To form the vast stretch of fabric
I will be the tiny red lace
That stands out
Completes it
I will be a song growing louder
Rising
A song that stays in your head
Long long long
After it’s played
I will be a sweet sweet sweet smelling inscense
That lingers
More than just a dancehall tune
More than just a hiphop beat
More than just a smooth talking RnB singer
More than just another pretty face
Another pair of God-kissed buttocks
I will be a song growing louder
Rising
