Statistic

I would rather be a statistic! My little girl is my world, my star and my universe distant from the unbearable quasar which is her mother I cannot describe her while maintaining homeostasis or my positive energy Vulgar clouds are storms My terminology is so derogatory without intent See I was made of sand Almost every grain of me poured through her hands that which I am A man holding an idea, a wish called love We are two schizophrenics I indulge in internal conversations and she locks herself in a state of paranoia and alarm which dissolves my dreams It is not right I would rather be a statistic Put me in a category! All you know are bits and pieces of my gory story On the cliff of an edge holding on to together Call me fool, naive, young for investing in forever Till the emotional bank told me insufficient funds, I tried to hustle cause I needed just one more one From heaven he says, "Money cannot fix it son." I asked god, "How come? It is true where I'm from." As a child, I grew up... believing that if a man worked hard enough he could change his situation. I never wanted all the stuff I had it rough and statistically predictably it interest me that I have to be unhappily faking in this society. Call me statistic, baby daddy, but never rogue father It still will not faze me. I am here for my daughter