Off My Chest

I want to think with my own mind,
While at the same time listening to one of those “nasty rhymes,”
and understanding that term trying to build equivalency between females and dogs,
is simply not referring to me.
I want to be free.

Though, i threw away the key to the lock that bounds me,
into the box filled with choices that I make regarding film, musical taste and how far I decide to go on a date.
Blatantly, media doesn’t make decisions.
I’m tryring to keep what’s subliminal minimal,
as I walk down the street wishing my thighs were the same size as she,
even though she tryna assimilate to me.
Claiming that I’m creating a “better version of me”
But what’s defined as BEST when I’m left feeling unhappy with thee.

Lord forgive me for I have sinned.
Though time and time I had done it again.
Last time was the last time.
I understand that you are mine.
Never a need to feel like I need another,
for with you I am whole.
There were lessons to be learned by the time I reached nineteen years old.

The components of my being are not lease, just to say the least.
Over-sexualized beings equate sex to a four letter word.
With all the moaning and groaning,
no wonder the malarkey goes unheard.

What ever happened to,
telling a woman she’s beautiful while looking at her face,
or telling a man you love him without Andrew Jackson being in your sacred space.

Jumping out the box,
even when I’m not in my circle of friends.
I’m done with being a noun,
I want to be a verb.
Trying to befriend those who lick their lips and Blow my mind with your words.
Make love to my favorite 16 bars.
I’m driving dreams not expensive cars.

Trading places, sounds good, because I’ve already been at rock bottom.
We’re gonna reach the climax,
of our greatest potential.
Comrades, you’re gonna get yours while I’m getting mine,
it’s impossible for you to fall,
because I’m holding your hand as we climb.

-Dominique Cobb