I'm On My Way Poem by Tristian Ford

This was the time that I spoke exactly what I felt.
And I did that because it was what was right.
Yet, this time I must keep my words.
So, I know from this day forth that
Nia and me, will not be married.
I'm ok with that, come what be.
Time will get her to where she has to be.
I pray that GOD/ I know that GOD
Will get her to be
Who she needs to be.
Not who I want her to be, But who she must be.
One day we
will both leave this earth and be
In a better place physically, spiritually, and emotionally.
I would love to see
her as happy as
I AM
Or, happy as I'm gonna be.
Then again.
On the other hand,
I also want to overstand,
Why I can't undersatnd.
Who's going to lend us a hand?
We just misunderstand
Why sad is she?
Why mad at me,
She is constantly?
This Woman and Me,
I guess it just was not meant to be.
I see
She is not meant for Me,
Or Maybe, just Maybe,
Me is just not meant for She.
Otherwise, the offenders of this heinous crime would go Scott-Free.
I point to the abridgment in one area
where a remarkable shared human progress has outpaced some sober thoughts on usability.
Whether it has to be that
We are Cutting down, We are Cutting short,
She's clearly cutting Me.
Abridgment,
Maybe, just Maybe
It's me straight-cutting her.
If not, who's cutting our feet from the roots?
Our flesh welted by branches and thorn bushes,
A natural landscape has altered her and me.

Who's mowing our area
Weeds- grass-cuttin-We?
I'm on my way
To see!
Who ensured the grass would pullulate perfectly?

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