My Paradox

"How can he," doubtedly speaking
To the half black/half puerto rican?
How?
How can he sit there twisting his hair?
'Cause all da troubles that troubles him doesnt trouble him here
And thats exactly why he came
Throughout the harsh winds and the rain
This place in his brain
Is the only thang thats keeping him sane
Though sometimes the silence hurts his ears
It is this paradox that helps him 2 escape his tears
...The irony.....
As he jots in his poetic diary
It is the glare in the mirror that makes it that much more difficult to see him
In due time i'll move away from this mirror
Return to turbulance...
To a world so merciless...
DAMN!