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Friday, June 5, 2015

POETRY: Spoken Word- "Who Am I"

SPOKEN WORD: Who Am I
NATE WILLIAMS



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Lyrics

My Father said I could be anything I want to be. And its up to me to turn my daydreams into realities And typically,I just go with the flow as I paddle streams 
But now my passion burns like calories for my purpose in this thing called life
What position do I play?
I'm on a mission every day to decipher what kinda life 
I should lead. 
Should I lead? Should I follow. 
Am I filled or am I hallow? 
I need water cuz this life has been a tough pill to swallow. 
Although that begs the question, Who am I?
No seriously who am I?
I haven't come to a conclusion
I need answers
But all I have is options. 
And my heart is always shopping for new identities that need adopting. 
Cuz I've been the outcast. I've been the jock. 
I've been the straight shooter. I've run from cops. 
I feel like an actor but in this scene they took away the props
I have nothing to hide behind
And here I stand, exposed. 
Like tan lines 
Left with the question, who am I?
3 simple words to plan my time 
And theyre vital 
My minds on stand by 
My soul's still idle 
Titles describe content 
And I've been a book without a cover
asked my father and my mother 
For assistance or some other kind of help. I'm feeling smothered. By the media. It hovers what I want in front. 
Another and another and another. I've discovered. Nothing. 
Who am I?
Everything i planed to be hasn't work out. InsanityWebster can't define me 
You are looking at a jack of all trades
Wearing a mask of all shapes 
Ready to act with no shame
It seems my possiblties are endless 
I could be someone to follow 
Or someone hardly worth a mention
Like twitter 
I'm bitter because my friends are trend setters and dress better that me. 
I'm not tendy am I?
But I could change
And spend my change and dollar bills on fancy thangs 
And swallow pills
Like my friends do.
I don't do drugs but I love to pretend to 
I mean it's hard to turn down what they lend you 
What they send you. Weekends tend to 
Be a curious set of days. 
Friday and Saturday I do it all 
But by Sunday I'm ashamed of what I did
I'm on the fence. And here I sit. 
I go to church sometimes and each time I ask God to answer the question. 
Who am I? 
Does He know? 
Does he care?
Are you listening. Are you there?
It only makes sense to ask the Maker
why he made what he made. 
Since we all look different our purposes can't all be the same. 
I am someone. 
An individual. Who's mostly confused and partially spiritual. 
Looking to answer this question. 
Praying the Maker will respond
Hoping society will quiet down 
So I can listen.

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