Finally launched EVE & EVE Podcast 🙏🏽🚀🚀🚀 Salute to my Co-host, team- and those at the Listening Session ❣️❣️ #trustyourself You can find us on Spotify ! https://open.spotify.com/show/3fq2upwMdIk1PVJxx8EjAC Check it out!!!!
How has 2019 been treating you so far?
I created the distance to find my balance.
Me against the drug—
I knew I couldn’t challenge.
Balancing hate and love, Lord knows I couldn’t manage.
I kept my heart open as the doors closed.
I had options, so I chose.
I decided dysfunction could no longer park.
I chose my sanity.
I chose my heart.
I accepted their challenges weren’t mine.
I learned to practice compassion, and respect time.
I learned to trust myself and always pray.
I accepted greatness would take me away.
That they would tell me I changed, I’m actin a way.
Now I’m performing with my family section empty.
I see it but it hasn’t hit me.
Back then reckless, caught a charge, the judge made you sit.
We never bonded, we never clicked.
By five he made me suck his dick.
The size of my mouth made it feel thick.
At the hands of your brother.
Left unprotected, you were addicted, unfit to be a mother.
I was number three, and yet after me, you had my brother.
At 32 I was lookin for my mother.
Every year was a new year, same you, new summer.
But 18’ you remained clean, I thought I met my mother.
Until you charged me up about being molested.
I gotta admit, it was hard to accept it.
I apologize for what I expected.
I was wrong to expect it.
But because I knew what I knew, I had to respect it.
Back then you were reckless, caught a charge, the judge made you sit.
We never bonded, we never clicked.
Disappointed but my heart never stopped.
I was confused, but I wasn’t shocked.
I understood, if you couldn’t love you, how could you love me?
How could I expect you to be what you never had to be.
A mother.
Back then you were reckless, caught a charge, the judge made you sit.
We never bonded, we never clicked.
We started talkin, kickin it and I never took a position.
Fallin in love wit you wasn’t my decision.
Cupid took a shot without my permission.
I heard about your past and I wanted revenge
You being wronged felt like a sin.
I was ready for whatever I was all in.
I felt like you took a loss, I wanted you to win.
I took your pain to the street.
I wanted to plot, 187 I couldn’t sleep.
I began having visions of shielding your heart.
I wanted you to forget the night you broke down and fell apart.
I wanted to be the light to drive out your darkness.
Instead, I made demands, came across as insecure and heartless.
It was the brightness of your soul that blinded my logic.
I took what you told and deemed it chronic.
My apology-
I wasn’t there when you wiped those tears.
I never saw how you got up that morning and attacked those fears.
I never gave credit where credit was due.
You opened your heart about a past I didn’t help you through.
I wasn’t there when you chose you.
I had to understand there was a reason our puzzles fit.
You wouldn’t understand my love if the past was something you chose to forget.
Your experiences brought me us.
You wouldn’t know honesty, trust, respect, the difference between love and lust.
If you didn’t know them, you wouldn’t know us
Hey Sir….
I wasn’t sure what to refer to you as.
I mean, the way you had us lookin, I could say, “ass”.
I got the text, and I was unimpressed.
I overlooked the fact, that you didn’t call, but sent a text.
I couldn’t for the life of me, understand, why you were pressed. Continue reading
I heard Bishop say it, I heard Meek say it.
I was reminded;
my aunt said it.
Not everyone gets a slice.
Grace, and greatness, they both have a price.
The greater the agony, the bigger the slice.
Everyday of my life, I’m paying that price.
Every tear, the confusion, these sleepless nights.
But it’s all for a purpose, we’re paying a price.
Trust and believe, the agony, and stress, will tenfold.
We been bold, we been strong,
There’s struggle on this path— and It ain’t wrong.
It’s gone hurt, and you gone ask why.
You gone keep asking, and get no reply.
That’s the price of grace and greatness,
When it all falls apart, it comes together.
Sunny days, after stormy weather.
Nothin’ was concrete, I had no recipe.
Love for myself was the missing piece.
The more broken I was, my faith increased.
No Mariah, but plenty baggage I carried.
I assessed my world, I was ready to share it. Continue reading
Mama’s baby, 80’s baby, daddy’s maybe.
My parents got caught in the shuffle.
They had that addiction, that encouraged the hustle.
Governed by trauma-
they followed the muscle. Continue reading
Broken Masterpiece 