Christmas Aftermath/Thank You, Father

So much going thru my head right now. If I don't write this one rhyme, I'll prolly have to write six blogs to get it all out. Peep-peep:

I can't afford the price of freedom, but I refuse to believe/
The reason I'm breathin' is to sweat under the power of
this heathen/
Who wears a paternity suit like a wolf in sheepskin/
His presence constantly reminds me just how bad I need friends/
But I'm thankful I have family, that scramble frantically/
For the saving sake of my sanity, making efforts to channel me/
They crush my fantasies cuz that's not the man that they plan to see/
Behind the scenes I look for more dreamers to take the stand with me/
Christmas Day found me sitting at the feet of my first cousin/
His life led him to be a father of two and a wonderful husband/
Didn't hurt so much when he said graduation is still my validation/
Cuz he focused much more on the power of prayer and supplication/
I watched him shed tears and reflect on our grandmama and daddy/
While his daughter matched my name with my face and called me
"Matthy"/
I wasn't sad, B; when I left I was quite happy somebody had me/
I was home in a flash, and just that quick back to reality/
Got a visit from my Dad see; didn't see that coming by far/
Least this time he wasn't interested in taking my car/
But if things go well, I'll be able to afford one in my name shortly/
Try to take that and I'll see you in Constitutional Court, see.../
Still, he pays the bills, I know not whether for good or ill/
But after he left I opened the mailbox and froze to the
steel.../
Ya'll better enjoy this verse for real, cuz it might be my last/
Somehow I missed a particular fee, direct from Comcast/
And I'm tryin my best to keep up, but I'm new to this type of
thing/
On the 28th they're cutting connectin if
I don't offer them up something/
There goes my plan for payin my own tuition and such/
I got no choice but to depend on other people too much/
In return, when they hit me with their concerns I must
respond/
Even if its because they love me, I feel the weight of these
bonds/
And now I'm looking at my future; my plans were to become/
An MC to change things for the better while I'm still young/
By the time I graduate, start teaching, get in this workforce/
I'll have lost my inspiration; end up just like the rest of course/
If I'm defeated, somebody say so so I can give up my
Shirt*/
Somebody hold my head, I'm so hurt.../


...Cuz in the middle of my writing.../
...Who should come back to the door without my inviting/
Bringing food for his kids that speak unkind words/
Like he heard, he took the bills without saying one word/
I never panned to be an ingrate, I'm just afraid of being hurt again/
I'm paranoid that every good action is just covering up dirt
again.../

In the shifting of odds I look for God.../
He's the one that sent my father back, no matter what frauds/
May come of it, as I think back on the words of my cousin/
"If you're gonna worry, stop praying"; just like that I'm above
it.../

*Shirt - the name of my organization in the works
(lines 17-48 written in concert with the events themselves)


Okay... so this won't be my last broadcast. This is unbelieveable... But like my cousin told me, praying and worrying aren't meant to coexist. Whatever my pop's intentions might be, I know what the Lord's intentions are. And that's all that matters. Thank you, Father. This was a wild post...