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Poetic Chronicles of A Mentally Controlled Heart - Roberson, Dijon D.
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I felt like no one was listening. I felt like I was in a world all by myself. I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to be bothered with anyone nor anything. I didn't want to go anywhere nor participate in anything. I felt like only my heart could understand exactly how I felt. It just seemed like everything in life was falling apart. I was stuck in my own little shell. I had just lost my dad, whom my mother was married to for twenty-two years, at the time. My mother was slipping into a depression, along with my sister; as for me and my brother, we had to try to hold it down. It was hard, very hard.…mehr

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I felt like no one was listening. I felt like I was in a world all by myself. I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to be bothered with anyone nor anything. I didn't want to go anywhere nor participate in anything. I felt like only my heart could understand exactly how I felt. It just seemed like everything in life was falling apart. I was stuck in my own little shell. I had just lost my dad, whom my mother was married to for twenty-two years, at the time. My mother was slipping into a depression, along with my sister; as for me and my brother, we had to try to hold it down. It was hard, very hard. Although I'm not the oldest, I still felt like I had more responsibility than the rest. I didn't want to slip into depression, so I had to find a way for someone to listen to me as I speak. No one was there. I would stare. I found myself always being in a daze, and as I was in that daze, I'd heard a voice, my voice, and it began to speak to me. Suddenly, I realized it began to rhyme. I thought it was music at first, but I didn't hear any tune. I had to catch it--I had to catch it while I had it, so I didn't lose it. I kept my phone close by me at all times, as I do anyway. It's like I could write and write, and it wouldn't end, only unless I deleted it. It might've not made sense to anyone, but I felt it--it made sense to me. I turned my rhymes into poetry instead of music; rapping is not my forte. I wasn't too sure of what it was, but I figured it was some type of talent. Then I lost my grandma. I thought all hell was about to break lose. Once I put all these together, I than decided to close out my book with a poem dedicated to her. I didn't have the strength to go on. She was my biggest inspiration and enjoyed listening to every single poem I read to her. She was always excited to hear a new piece. They became deep and deeper. She understood them because she was always there. Once these tragedies happened, I figured I'd just publish, hoping that maybe my little bitty story will be a big inspiration to someone. Moral of my thought is, although your mind might play tricks on you, your heart will always understand your mind even with no one around.