Sun, 23 Nov 2025 07:50:34 -0500WeeblySun, 28 Sep 2014 11:31:15 GMThttps://www.speakresilience.com/poetic-thoughts/made-likeI cry in the night and my tears have no end.  
The day begins again and my eyes droop downward towards my broken heart
A million lashes to my soul. . . constantly embedded within the hurts of those I was made to love
Made like born into
Made like poured into
Made like desperate circumstances
Made like self-preservation
Made like no room for hesitation
Made like if I don't I am going to end up just like the fallen generation
Not knowing that the fallen generation was approaching and has passed
Waking to sounds of gunfire and the smell of marijuana 
Confused by the smell of crack rock dancing in my head
"Yo Momma's on........" Membranes ache and my cerebral cortex is out of balance
My eyes see upside down when I look through my Mother's glasses
The sacrifices she made cannot be in vain
The redemption of my Father too sad to mention
An extension
The regal, relentless trial of optimism and gain
Can't wake up from this reoccurring nightmare. . .  
Shrinking my thoughts are the demons with the pure reflection
Aiming at my desire for love and affection
Relentlessly and reverently I am left to my own devices to hug the slaps in my face
Like raindrops interlocking over the rooftop of strange 
The window panel makes water more welcomed than my pillow
I get misty and my soul is weary
I am no more 
There is no more fight left in me
How did I get so weak?
My strong stopped feeling and my soul stopped healing cause its wrong and "no boooody knooooows my sooorroooooow" 
I cry in the night and my tears have no end.  
The day begins again and my eyes droop downward towards my broken heart
A million lashes to my soul. . . constantly embedded within the hurts of those I was made to love
Made like born into
Made like poured into
Made like desperate circumstances
Made like self-preservation
Made like no room for hesitation
Made like if I don't I am going to end up just like the fallen generation
Not knowing that the fallen generation was near and is far
Was it when the abuser kept going? 
Did the tools make you more creative at the work of tearing down my soul? 
When you pushed me in the toilet, did it make your soul smile?
When you followed me home by the third day, did it make you feel safer to walk home from school?
When you bullied me, did it make you feel like you could go on another day? 
When you swung with the lock, did it release your inhibitions?
Did it make you smile to know that I wouldn't be going to prison?
Did my face feel best with the way your fist connected to it? 
Has the spin kick offered any sense of contentment for you?  
Did that woman you brought into our home inspire you to be a better man? 
When you 1st gave yourself to a man, did any vision of your covenant come to mind?
When you look into the eyes of another woman and reach for an unwed connection, do you feel like a better role-model and a better father? 
Is your wife alright with how often you have trampled through half a generational bloodline? 
If the grave had voices would it tell of all the illegitimate kids?
When we were kids, did it hurt to be touched and to be kissed and to be tricked and to be missed the incest dismissed?
Did your heart stop like mine when she died?
When he stabbed her in the lungs did you cry?
When you used my naivety to fulfill your desires, were you impacted and captivated by the love of a higher power?
How can you pretend it didn't exist?
Calling Anne Frank, Maya Angelou, Debbie Allen, Felicia Rashad, and Oprah Winfrey thank you for giving me back the phenomenally black parts of me the world's pain hacked.
You gave to me the precious gift a rape kit can't give back
I thought this was it, my ticket to the big time, but I didn't know 
The admission fee 
Required me to bow my head in upward downward strokes in exchange for my pride.
Dreams deferred to say the least and blind eyes can't see what deaf ears to sound, can't repeat
The echoes of excruciating pains my memory can't erase
Lock them up in the bosom of iniquities 
Trade them in for a good education, a network of friends, and a set of keys to everything
Freedom can't be unlocked simply because I dare it to speak
Horns can't blow if little bow peep is asleep
The voice of humanity has to be ready
The flow of tranquility has to be steady
Rock, paper, scissors.. . . . . . . live
Only 'paint over pain' new experiences, new friends and new family times of escape
New slates can't begin without stripped fresh, polyurethaned 3 coats 
Father, Son & Holy Spirit
The residue of brown-eyed blues of masked journeys with lies
I wish to tell my story someday but instead I'll tell what I wish I could see with my eyes
Feel deeply the kind of love that would make me cry
Sing loudly the kind of praise that makes me torn to die
Heaven is the best way out of hell 
Earth is hell's holy grail
Regardless to whether my tails in a spell and my brain can't concrete year old stale bread 
I'm being fed an expectation of hope that makes like easier to cope . . . can't be repeated 
Only the gift of life can quench my thirst. 
Only the presence of Christ can heal those hurts 
I ought to know what God says life is worth
I cry in the night and my tears have no end.  
The day begins again and my eyes droop downward towards my broken heart
A million lashes to my soul. . . constantly embedded within the hurts of those I was made to love
Made like born into
Made like poured into
Made like desperate circumstances
Made like self-preservation
Made like no room for hesitation
Made like if I don't I am going to end up just like the fallen generation
Not knowing that the fallen generation was already here. . . . it's me, it's you, it's inevitable
Thankfully, I have Christ . . . . .  to pick me up
Cause in the end. . . . I'm Made Like Me.
Speak Resilience

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