Frosted Flakez

Reserved and quiet I was as a curious kid growing past all Pain The South Bronx had to offer.
Observing a family rife with internal turmoil from the get go.
No matter how many fists were thrown,
No matter how many times Grandma had called police during our lovely,
‘Heartwarming’ reunions every Sunday afternoon over the antics of the infamous uncle Fran,
Most of my aunts and uncles still speak to this day.
Including Fran in that bad,
Bad mix of fools with no intention to make each other happy…

I saw their loyalty and wanted it for myself.
Someone who loves you even if you continuously throw eggs,
Full force,
In their face.
A face crowned with what seems like a permanent frown from dealing with hysteria you externally ignore and stay blind to…

You learn the hard way after willingly being surrounded by Poison of all kinds.
Whether it is jealousy,
Owing money
Your sister eating your last piece of chocolate cake knowing that’s all you’ve been craving for your ‘cheat’ day.
It will all end the same if one lacks patience,
And true Love for themselves when peeking at themselves in the mirror…

“I hate you!”
“I’m going to kill you!”
At least my family would repeat that second quotation on multiple occasions.
The first?
Pretty common around all types of neighborhoods.
Just a couple of phrases I’ve heard from family and friends who claimed to had ‘love’ and ‘wanted the best’ of me.
Individuals whom flaked more than Tony The Tiger on his own cereal box anytime my beloved Ex girlfriend!
Gave me the courage to do so.
With too much focus on their lies swarming my mind,
I became that “egg-throwing” friend, boy friend she eventually ran away from…

Things happen for a reason,
Finally began seeing myself smile when I decided to live a life without Poison involved.
Poison like old flesh and blood that can only contaminate my body’s innards further,
Rather than provide any ounce of medicinal hope for a heart formerly ailing in gut-wrenching despair…

Whoever said we must break from the mold before it hardens?
Never lied.
To think that my inner child was ‘stone cold’ at some point,
Wrestling with demons hardening a shell around my dear heart through their own Furnace of Hell?
Couldn’t believe it now,
With my refusal to be loyal to what makes my spirit cry.
And cry…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at

Up ↑

Create your website at
Get started
%d bloggers like this: