I think you're a fantastic lady, no doubt. I know I don't allow myself to dive too deep into that emotional pool. I know that's not fair and not kool to you and for you. An old head once told me when I was young that a fool spends a lifetime trying not to be fooled again. I was a fool for love, I will admit that much. Almost lost essential parts of my soul and that's real. If I'm putting too much of my trips on you, please walk away. I won't be mad or speak of you in a negative way. It's just...I refuse to cry for any woman again. Ever.
Feel me..
Somebody please tell me who is that fool
who can barely raise his pitiful head,
somebody please tell me who is that fool
who even his momma thought was emotionally dead,
embedded in my soul was a dagger that kept being twisted,
so I learned, not to turn left or right so the pain could be resisted,
and when friends insisted, that I could either coexist,
with the torture of being, at heart, a romanticist,
or face being a failure fetishist,
I chose to be a pacifist, at the very moment she was being a nacissist,
so now my soul consists, of a cyst, and various stages of darkness,
the only way I got better,
was to refuse to cry for any woman, ever
Feel me...
A man can't afford to be pliant facing a hostile city,
things can get kinda sticky, if a brother act too prissy,
he can end up being hung, coughing up blood from his battered lungs,
like some Ghost of Mississippi,
I didn't know the D'ee who once smiled at the simple things,
I morphed into a cat who just waited to see what drama another day could bring,
by spring, of that year, I got caught up in flings,
how many times could I make my manhood sling,
how many women could I make sing,
a song of pleasure and pain, yet myself remain,
emotionally distant, resistant, to even the most beautiful,
the most persistent, at my soul's insistence,
I refused to give any credence or relavence,
even with the most sexually proficient,
my attiude was, let me grab the lubricant,
because you're getting kinda dry,
all because I refused to cry,
for any woman again, ever
Feel me..
me and my boy went through the destruction
of our families at the very same time,
it was hard to determine whose soul was more ruptured,
his or mine, and even though he's my soul brother,
I couldn't bring myself to mention the bedtimes I spent,
trying to prevent, check that, attempting to circumvent,
the tears that would fall from my eyes,
and what they had come to represent,
it seemed with the devil's consent, she was blind to the extent,
of my hurt, waking up and going to work,
hurting, every flirting woman reminding me,
of the one who initiated, and willingly participated,
in my soul's catastrophe,
that's when I had the startling epiphany,
no matter what future relationship goes awry,
I will refuse to cry,
for any woman again, ever
Feel me,
I know it's not fair of me to deny your emotional plea,
fact is, am I being a punk brother, probably,
real rap, I can't even give you a promise or a guarantee,
that you won't trip or slip on my emotional debris,
you see, when a man's a soul survivor, a recovery,
of so-called unconditional love, an amputee,
he can't afford to give his testes,
to another woman for safe-keeping, not when the bleeding
in his heart was staunched by anger and determination,
never again to be in a situation, where he's on probation,
no more pleading, not sleeping, no weeping, for a fleeting feeling
some call love, when the heart is leaking,
no matter how many compresses you apply,
and that is why, I can't give my soul to you,
because I simply refuse to cry,
over any woman again, ever
FROM AUGUST TO SEPTEMBER,
I TRIED TO REMEMBER,
THE GOOD,
THEN OCTOBER CAME AND WENT,
AND I SPENT TIME COGITATING ON THE PAIN I WITHSTOOD,
NOVEMBER, MEMBERS
OF MY FAMILY SAID I HAD TO COME BACK AMONG THE LIVING,
AND THOUGH I HAD MY DAUGHTER TO BE THANKFUL FOR,
I DIDN'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THANKSGIVING,
DECEMBER CAME AND ALL THOSE CHRISTMAS SONGS,
EVERYTIME I HEARD "HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS"
I THOUGHT, NAH BROTHER, YOU ARE ARE SO, SO WRONG,
JANUARY, THE VIBE VARIED,
I NO LONGER THOUGHT OF MYSELF AS MARRIED,
BUT A PREDATOR ON THE LOOSE, READY TO PLAY,
DID I HURT A FEW WOMEN'S HEARTS, MAYBE MORE, YES,
WHAT MORE CAN I SAY,
FEBRUARY, QUITE CONTRARY,
SHOVELING SNOW,
WONDERING JUST WHEN SATAN HAD THOSE DEMONIC SEEDS SOWED,
I COULDN'T WRITE, COULDN'T FLOW,
AND YOU KNOW THAT'S A TRIP,
MARCH CAME IN WITH A RIP,
BUT, EXCUSE MY FRENCH, I DIDN'T GIVE A SHYT,
APRIL RAIN,
JUST SERVED TO REMIND ME OF THE PAIN,
I THOUGHT I HAD BURIED DEEP DOWN,
MAY, WHAT CAN A BROTHER SAY,
I DIDN'T DESIRE ANY WOMAN LOVING ME, OR NEEDING ME,
I JUST WANTED PURE SEX AROUND,
JUNE, CAME TOO SOON,
FOR ME TO REALIZE I WASN'T BEING THE REAL D'EE,
JULY, I LIVED IN THE LIES,
I HAD CONSTRUCTED TO PROTECT THE ESSENTIAL ME,
AUGUST, I DECIDED TO NO LONGER TRUST,
ONLY LUST AND LIVE LIFE LIKE THERE WAS NO TOMORROW,
DIDN'T HAVE ANY VIBE TO GIVE A WOMAN THAT WASN'T BORROWED
FROM THE PLAYA'S HANDBOOK,
A FULL YEAR, WITHOUT SHEDDING A TEAR,
SO IN SEPTEMBER I TOOK A SECOND LOOK,
AND REALIZED, I WAS BETTER FOR ME,
BUT WORSE FOR A WOMAN WHO CAN LOVE LIKE YOU
Feel me...
as I end this soul soliloquy,
the realest shyt D'ee ever truly wrote,
it's not that I'm afraid of getting to know you better,
it's just I can't afford to grope,
in the darkness,
or hope in the heartless,
can't cope with being a dope,
duped, a fool getting the boot,
the very moment my heart begins to melt,
because I can still remember how it felt,
to be in a pain so paralyzing,
even testifying to God didn't help,
I finally have my self-respect, my pride,
I'm not asking or demanding you deal with me,
just trying to confide,
the reasons why, my soul is female protected,
and tough I have feelings of love for you,
it's true you're respected,
for a long time now my tearducts have been dry,
and I refuse to cry,
for any woman again..ever
if you've just read this letter,
call me if you want to talk,
but I can understand if you decide to walk away,
maybe it's better for you that way
LOVE ALWAYS,
D'EE