Email Poem

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Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
If I could stand in front of a 
mirror of truth I would whisper 
dreams of  my future. I would 
let that future echo in my past 
in hopes to live in a  brighter 
now. For now contains what I 
am and always will be. And 
what I  am, was, and always 
will be is that seed. I am that 
seed, I am that seed,  I am 
that bastard seed that swam 
from the deeps of darkness to 
heavenly  eyes and a ghostly 
face. A face that cant be 
arrange so it leaves it  
misplaced. Misplaced by many 
which enforced the hate. The 
hate that  breathes waves of 
fire from the mind, body and 
soul of what some call  the sun 
but really just a formulation of 
what I am. I am that seed, I 
am  that seed, I am that seed. 
Yes I am that seed a seed that 
set root even  when the other 
root left the room so my 
mother wouldn't name me after  
him. So I be spitting at him 
from behind because I'm not 
the son of that  reject. I am 
before that, I am before, I am 
before, before. Before him  
wasn't death it was eternity so 
in death I will speak only in 
eternity and let  my voice be 
heard. For my dreams don't 
have to be deferred. And I'll  be 
scrapping my dreams from 
nightmares and let my 
nightmares haunt in my past.  
For the past has been beating 
my ass. And I'll be having 
dreams that  don't go 
disturbed. For my dreams is my 
voice being heard. But some 
say  its too late. For my past 
has been infected by time but 
some of this  shit is before my 
time I need more time, I need 
more time. But it's too  late as 
the seconds drip off I look left 
to right, right to left but 
nothing is there. For I'm here 
at the end of the road which is 
the  beginning of my road of 
my time. And I ask...where my 
haters at? Don't  tell me my 
haters got dusted in time. For 
they thought I was in their 
time. I guess  they didn't 
realize I was ahead of 
their...time.
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