Knowledgeable Profits

Sit and fill my notebook with anger 

Everything but designer and big names on my hanger 

In my drawers 

Never say this or 

That because my clothes looked like 

A mat outside your door 

But I never felt welcome 

One of the tallest in my grade except felt so little like Malcolm 

Before the x

A well respected flex 

Shoes worn by ballers 

Not just ones who 

Dribble Spaulding in and out of their hand 

How this was all paid for would rapidly expand, My world 

Brands like,

True religion 

Only knew of the scattered brained gramma trying to get us ready for Sunday mass at 5 o’clock 

Would have to dress nice 

Couldn’t even rock Ralph Lauren 

A little older I grew everyone seemed to love all the materials that are foreign

Balenciaga 

Ferragamo 

Prada 

Maybe it’s because I’m borin’ 

When they speak to me I’m treated as 

foreign 

What do I need to do make myself relevant 

Hold on I need my Pants that don’t fit 

Then strap on my Louis Vuitton 

Never so badly I wanted to be put on

Around $450 dollars for a belt 

I knew it must be godly felt 

At least that’s what I thought 

Food for thought 

Felt more like food stamps

“Eat too fast you’ll be left wit cramps”

That phrase clicked like a light switch when I was older 

What I realized I have is a brain and the bag that rests on my shoulders 

These books, pencils, all sorts of writing materials 

A shoe collection 

While I worked on writings that are imperial 

I let my words run miles and they never crease 

Being a poet is the most expensive brand