Choose you Lose

Grandma carried smiles that distracted us from mommy's frowns. 

What could there be to frown about in a world they painted so perfectly to us? 

We always had food to eat.

Albeit, never of much quality.

Spam and Bologna, replacements for meat. 

We didn't know much better.

An immigrant family from one of the poorest countries, trying to make ends meet. 

Mommy, working nearly as much as daddy.

Trying to preserve the family.

Coming home, growing angry over dishes, over spilled milk, over things kids can't help. 

Can you blame her? 

The water she treads on is dangerous.

Trying to make sense of the hang ups. 

Trying her best to protect what's hers from the fate we wish wasn't created, from the past she endured.

Mood swings and dangerous language. 

Her words are tainted, so I repaint them and make them as lovely as teachers describe white moms to be.

Escape to fantasy to combat this confusing reality that doesn't serve to nurture nor nourish me.

And what's worse is that there's is no sight of daddy throughout all the turmoil.

He's putting in hours to make sure there's oil in the house for when the leaves begin to scatter. 

Gone for the holidays and throughout business hours, to keep the money flowing in. 

And I appreciate it but our house was always missing a king.

Missing the presence that helped us feel safe. 

No wonder there's paranoia.

No wonder there's pain. 

Author's Note

"The Struggle" Oldschool HipHop Instrumental