In Plain View

From my broken crooked porch

on my broken crooked swing

outside my broken crooked house

I see the light through the fog;

hear the music through the silence.

I see the love through the hate,

the loyalty through the betrayal,

and the honor through the disappointment.

In my so imperfect ghetto world, I see perfection.

As I walk upon these precisely rectangular-set sidewalks,

expensive red carpeted club flooring,

and imported custom made Italian tile,

I see the crack in the molding; the chip in corner.

I see the uneven coloring on your Hollywood made up face,

the scratch on your 'cost more than my house' sports car.

I see everything you hide behind that fake smile -

your hate, your jealousy, your envy;

your fear, your pain, your shame;

I see the truth behind your name.

In your so perfect fake Hollywood world,

I see the dramatic errors in your reality.

I see the real you you're ashamed to be

and the jealous hateful look in your eyes

when you see me just being me.

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