My vibe is a one
My vibe is a two
Wait, let me tell you from my point of view
The way I see it, the way your vibes flow is by choice
One or two decisions
One good, one bad
The other is mad
I guess either way we all win
We get all our wants; even with all the yelling and taunts
we’d gone out of our way
So far that we would kill for stacks of green any day
Smokin ‘em like rubber to a flame
Maybe this is a bit lame
Haha sic
Boy, isn’t that a shame?
My vibe is a three
My vibe is a four
Give me one more, I go way past
Past my present, past my future
Though my life is good
I still go back
I’d go back to the second before I blinked the first time
Long before I made this rhyme
But don’t get misunderstood son
I still love the hood
You’d probably think of it as nothing but a poverty wasteland
Let me tell you three words
Loud and clear; Crime is everywhere
Whether you like it or not it’s true
Can’t deny now; can you boo?
The streets where I was raised , raised to be me
Learning to accept life, even if this crazy haze
The crazy haze that life put my fam in
Almost before the darkness begin
I’ve made many sins; but boy does He forgive!
He let me endure to the end
To the end of my final days
I’m grateful for the way I’ve changed mentally
And I wouldn’t trade it for the hasty world
My vibe is a five
Your vibe is a six
Kinda like two bars in a Twix
One tastes good but the other is better
Basically a sweater in the cold weather
Like a mother’s arm around a baby, your vibe is the best of them
Not because you’re the number six
Not because the number is easy to rhyme with
Not because the problem you’d face had no easy fix
Not because the words said to you were a fist to your stomach
Not because the you mix with 3.141
It’s because you are true
True to how you are
Not afraid of showing your scars
Accepting all your flaws and mistakes
Not even being high on the fake
Not afraid of walking and standing alone
Loving the fact that you’re home
Can walk without the need of assistance
See without always hearing; hear without always seeing
May the youth of you stay like paint on a wall
Keeping the color fresh but not fully clean
Releasing the color that no one sees
Even the petals and leaves of the most perfect tree blow in the wind
But thanks to you, I think I might win
-Amaya Cowan
Thursday Nov. 16, 2017
5:38pm
Poetry