My Room
- Seattle Prep Ignite
- May 17, 2016
- 1 min read
Open my diary. The wrinkly pages are a canvas.
The mural is my volume of chapters.
The shapes and figures are my paragraphs.
The brush stroke is my chicken scratch.
Look in my mirror. See the reflection of me practicing my coffee house acts, pretending the world is my audience and they're feeling my music like I feel my heartbeat.
In front of my reflection, time has been spent trying to find my identity via the way I present
My acting, rapping, fashion statement. Creating an image that satisfies my eye’s desire for aesthetic.
Walk in not just my shoes but my whole outfit head to toe.
This filthy clean layer of skin makes me comfortable.
Black hightop Nikes, denim green jeans, and a cotton Nas tee.
Capped with a snap-back cocked back at one-eighty degrees.
Dive into my copy of A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking.
Explore through the pages’ information as dense as the universe in a space-time singularity.
Read through my book of rhymes
containing energy that emulates that of galaxies
containing a force that rivals a black hole’s gravity.
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