Sometimes...Right before I close my eyes

I go back to a time where I was free
Oh, to be 7 again
with my pad and pen
writing stories and songs in my journal
I knew I was born to write.
but they could've ever told me that it would be such a fight
for them to accept a chocolate girl for her brains
a well-spoken literate girl with big dreams
and even bigger odds against her
fighting to break the forever curse of babies at 17
Not...Like mother like daughter.
And although she had me young
She too could never prepare me for the loaded gun that was life
while my peers received council and guidance I met disdain
I guess the 21st century don't mean shit because...
There's always gonna be someone sitting there with the keys to your future
wrapped neatly in a salami subway sandwich cruises for their tonsils.
Where I go it haunts me
the fact that I won't "dumb down" or shut up
I turn in paper after paper
and after priceless internships
handed to most
I fight and fight again for my destiny
I was born to write
And if they never let me in you can just liken me to...
the scribers of ancient Egypt
We don't even know their names
but their stories live on...
Like writings on the wall for the world to bear witness to.
To be 7 again would be like slicing into a juicy mango
on a cool summer day in grandma's backyard while Aretha played
Vocal waves drifting over garden tomatoes
and right back into my tender ears
and me mimicking each word without the experience
to know what she really meant.
Some days I wanna say "Fuck it"
but the poet in me won't let me quit
So I say again
I thank god for vivid memories of 7
because she strengthens me like no one could ever know