"MORALS" poem

There was a point in my life where I was stuck between hell and purgatory.  Earth was my hell, and while being in purgatory my life was at a standstill, because I was trying to be purified, but was still delusional on what in my life was actually real.  All the times that I stressed, I found myself a new faith.  All I did was write, letting the pen to my paper be the flow of my faith and this is how I’m here writing today.  I never told anyone anything because I wrote everyday to tell myself of what I went through; never needed to trust anyone with my memories because all I knew was that the ink that touched my paper was the truth.  My morals have been lost.
I’ve done it all but robberies, turned into everything my mom didn’t want me to be.  Fell into lust and temptation, used to entertain my desires.  Self destructive, you are your worst enemy when your only seeing what you want to see.  Times that I could’ve been knocked up by any nigga, all the friends that I’ve lost and the lives whose I’ve changed, at this moment- what does it all matter anyway?  All the bullets that went and missed me, relationships ended because I said “I” when refusing to say “WE”- but God had a set path for me.  I’m destined to be great, not because I want but because God knows it’s meant to be- but my morals have ben destroyed.I only smiled because everything that God let me go through just made me tougher.  The streets are a demon in a dress: perfume in the air, dollar signs in her eyes, a feeling of awe in between her thighs, lust in her breath.  You are whatever you want to be, as long as your heard.  I am a voice that speaks truth.  I am seen, my presence felt, a product of the streets that has made the right choices even when a bad hand was dealt.  I’ve made the choices, I have the proof, your looking at living proof.  I was seen as a stereotype for my own kind, a bad reference for all colored the same color as me.  None the less, I proved to be something else, I rebel to stay unlabeled by others.  No one shall give me my name, I have my own that I, alone, shall claim.  I gave up street life a long time ago, gave up my life of crime.  I represent no gangs, I represent my own life to the fullest.  I have restored myself and hope that one day all of my morals will come back to me.

-Butta Love, the provocative verbalist