WHO AM I? 

My Father said I could be anything I want to be. And it’s up to me to turn my daydreams into realities And typically, I just go with the flow as I paddle streams

But now my passion burns like calories for my purpose in this thing called life
What position do I play?
I’m on a mission every day to decipher what kind of life
I should lead.
Should I lead? Should I follow?

Am I filled or am I hallow?

I need water cuz this life has been a tough pill to swallow.

Although that begs the question, who am I?

No seriously who am I?

I haven’t come to a conclusion

I need answers

But all I have is options.

And my heart is always shopping for new identities that need adopting.

Cuz I’ve been the outcast. I’ve been the jock.

I’ve been the straight shooter. I’ve run from cops.

I feel like an actor but in this scene they took away the props

I have nothing to hide behind

and here I stand, exposed.

Like tan lines
Left with the question, who am I?
3 simple words to plan my time
And they’re vital
My minds on stand by

My soul’s still idle
Titles describe content
And I’ve been a book without a cover
asked my father and my mother
For assistance or some other kind of help. I’m feeling smothered. By the media. It hovers what I want in front.
Another and another and another. I’ve discovered. Nothing.
Who am I?
Everything I planned to be hasn’t work out. Insanity Webster can’t define me

You are looking at a jack of all trades
Wearing a mask of all shapes

Ready to act with no shame

It seems my possibilities are endless
I could be someone to follow
Or someone hardly worth a mention
Like twitter
I’m bitter because my friends are trend setters and dress better that me.
I’m not trendy am I?
But I could change
and spend my change and dollar bills on fancy thangs

and swallow pills
like my friends do.
I don’t do drugs but I love to pretend to
I mean it’s hard to turn down what they lend you
what they send you. Weekends tend to
be a curious set of days.
Friday and Saturday I do it all

But by Sunday I’m ashamed of what I did
I’m on the fence. And here I sit.

I go to church sometimes and each time I ask God to answer the question.
Who am I?
Does He know?
Does he care?
Are you listening? Are you there?
It only makes sense to ask the Maker

why he made what he made.

Since we all look different our purposes can’t all be the same.

I am someone.
An individual. Who’s mostly confused and partially spiritual?

Looking to answer this question.
Praying the Maker will respond
Hoping society will quiet down
so I can listen.

Spoken Word by – Nate Williams

PHOTOGRAPHY BY THE BONGOLESE




 
Full Look : Thrifted

Love , 

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6 Comments

  1. July 17, 2015 / 12:24 pm

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  2. July 19, 2015 / 3:47 pm

    Swee…I love your blog…awesome style you have…cool outfits thrifted..I shld visit gikomba soon

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