Weight of loveburdenbeauty [shortened]

𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚝
If someone gave me a nickel for my thoughts, 
how much could I bank before the truth became exhausting?

Never have I envied the fortunate facades of my peers – shit, 
even in our brief excursion into suburbia I held true to our family’s core,
at least that’s what I convinced
myself.

This conversation ended before it began [momma] Where do I begin?
As I’ve grown older, I’ve discovered that riches are bubble wrapped in misfortune and anxiety.
A large percentage of me is willing to pay the cost.

When we lived in Philadelphia,
Never had I thought about things we didn’t have –
we made due through those times we spiraled downward.
Ungratefulness hardly showed,
but you could imagine how those Christmas movies changed a young boy’s perspective. 

                                                                                                                 Power of the dolla, they say 

I’ve always pondered its true value 
what could 4 quarters be used for outside of drying our laundry?

10 dimes ain’t enough –

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚋𝚞𝚢𝚖𝚎
but trips down a reminiscent boulevard, daydreaming about taco Tuesdays with first cousins and the smell of chitlins on our walls that you cooked for grandma two days prior.
What can I give for an incense with an aroma of Eggo waffles and Brown N’ Serve sausages drowned in 
Mrs. Buttersworth on the sabbath before Sunday school?

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚋𝚞𝚢𝚖𝚎
but reminders of a cemented past, uncertain future, and peculiar present?

I’m no rich man I’m a born hustla but inevitably that avenue corner dries up and I’ll seek a way to exchange these memories for currency.
I’m not shallow momma—                               I’m dying to get back to you.
So what if I bought some clothes along the way and paid to go out the country…
you would have wanted that for me, right?

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜𝚋𝚞𝚢𝚖𝚎
when there is nothing left to pawn?
Consider me a young man conflicted…

𝘈𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘧𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯
I’d give a handful of these memories for 600 seconds with you.
In 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚏𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 your spirit led me to Psalm 27: 1-3

and that’s when 𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚜𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚛

Dear heavenly Mother, 
I pray that you continue to guide me through this darkness. Illuminate my path with blessings and 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛.
Storm after storm – no perfect seasons. 
I hold no place to question, but how long before these roots begin to rot?
How long before the metamorphosis from blue spruce to silver maple commences?
I hope to hear tambourines when my curtain closes- may my casket be filled with lost love letters 
and dead roses. Heaven gates ain’t as pearly as they used to be – screen doors painted over.
Nevertheless:
Protect my family from those who wish evil upon us and banish them within the temple of their fears. Provide me with the strength of an exploding star to safeguard my loved ones from harm that 
hasn’t been done. Continue to enable my spirit to protect me when my guard is down 
and consult when I am alert.
Polish my shield in the tears of Christ and sharpen my sword upon the enemies’ gravestone.
You know my heart, lord. I pray for purity. 
Please acknowledge these words
as you have in times passed.