Obsessed with keeping it real, not selling my soul, I let it spoil.
Taught that selling was dishonest, I believed it better to be good than rich.
My mom told me this. Always told me this.
As college graduation approached I scrambled like a black quarterback.
The mantra money isn’t important on repeat until it became fact.
My agnostic soul prayed that it may retain
This mantra and still get away. Get away.
The cruelties others had accepted.
Trading time for money. A portrait I came to hate.
My soul continued to pray
That somehow I be made an exception.
Because I am unique. Let the others toil.
I am the grasshopper.
To be anything else. I couldn’t accept it.
Time continued to pass, like toothpaste in a happy family’s bathroom.
God said nothing back.
My atheist soul no longer plead.
Defined more by what it disbelieved rather than what it believe
This is part 1. I separated it because it felt weird continuing on from this point. This leaves off at a depressing point, while the work at large is actually an optimistic one. So I figured I separate them instead.
There's a rap lyric by 50 Cent that inspired this, And I'll post that on the next part.
Thanks for reading!