IF ONLY I HAD A FATHER BY GOODNESS KWAM
DIARY OF THE MIND BY GOODNESS KWAM: SEASON1
If only I had a father, maybe things would’ve been better.
If only I had a brother, maybe he would be my lost soldier.
If only I had a mother, maybe I wouldn’t have to bother.
If only I had a good education maybe studying abroad,I would be all gone shooting a loud gun in my world of Fame as I get the pay and a good name.
If only I came from a gold town and not a home for clowns, maybe my negativity would’ve been dealt with and my creativity borne with total positivity.
If only I had a family United and not conformed to selfishness, maybe I would be a better man or woman who slots in the pay for others and act human.
If only I was given a name, born of fame and wealth, maybe i would’ve been letting my dimples out up until I become grey.
But what if, the ‘IF’s aren’t meant to be, will I let my dreams die in defeat and shut out the only light rekindled so bright to give me hopes of a new height and future I would’ve liked?
Could I make a difference?
Can I be me and still believe?
Can I reach out and still fill out without falling out?
Can I be the dew in the morning that pours out it’s glory to make the dying glowing in beauty?
Sometimes I want to believe that what I hear them say about me is what it is,real.
Am a good for nothing, that hurts me deep.
I wish they could see how deep those words sound to me and burns me down beneath.
Could those words be so powerful,it makes me pouring tears from a dried heart till my cup is full and my lion heart leaps out of my ribs in fury for retribution and anger becomes a decision I can’t get rid of or let go as an ambition.
I kill me more cause I can’t let it go, all the things that breaks me more even when I thought I had a heart of gold.
Can I forgive myself if I fail woefully, when somewhere my eggs lay hopefully to regenerate and bring forth a second me to the world I crushed in conflicts deeds?
Could the infant I would raise, face the pain I gave a way to delegate and reshape the future I laid in wait.
In wait for nothing close to me, but something I wanna be out of place of who I really am. Am lost in darkness, wishing that I’ll be found with aching knuckle and like a toddler I let the pain suck out every joy I had and wishes to live.
Now I write in rhymes and I wish you could read beyond the lines and feel the heat between lines that am pouring out a heart of a life, that is enslaved in a cage of total misunderstanding and depression to seek for redemption.