A deficiency of my nerves ravage as I watch
what seems to be realistic fade before my eyes.
Yep, you got it the confirmation # 526493
has printed itself on my heart.
Passion. Confusion. Love. Audaciousness.
Beauty. Infatuation. Mixed Feelings.
Diamond eyes stared at me for all the wrong reasons
and I promised myself I wouldn’t breakdown
or let a nigga get so close to me he could break me or breathe for me.
My heart has the quote “no more tears” printed on it
and it maintains its identity.
So why is it that now my heart starts to wonder,
questioning the one thing that I was once so sure of in my life?
I say to myself Neshia, breathe, count to ten, calm down, and relax.
Read between the line nigga is what I really want to scream.
Misconception. Miseducation. Misunderstanding.
Being misunderstood is the wrong thing but it whispers solitude in my ear.
So, in the mist of my tribulation I stand back and smile
instead of cry because niggas who think they know me really don’t.
The truth is they don’t even know the half.