For the Love of Hip Hop

You spoke words in my ear over top of the beat of a drum
every morning
you made me feel good
ready to start my day
I heard you moan in your songs
reach high notes
and embrace my spirit with your low notes.

Your lyrics freed me from the pain, fear, and anxiety I felt
for I was going to a school that broke rules.
Students didn't care whether they lived or died.
You were my highschool sweetheart
your name Hip Hop.

You decorated me with your bright colors
big hoop earrings
sculptured hair
you told me that the white man was my enemy.
But I loved him anyway, he was my Hip Hop.

He bought for me, stroked me,
told me he cared about me.
Called me beautiful, paid attention to me.
He supplied me with the hip in your hop
to keep me coming back for more.

I rocked to your beat.
I felt your melody.
I envisioned a future with you.
I was going to be your b-girl and you would be my b-boy.

But I found out your words lie, curse, and made me do things I really didn't want to.
Made me feel like I was on top of the world, when I really wasn't.
Promised me a better life with every hip into bed and every hop elsewhere.

Hip Hop was a pimp recruiting hoes and I was no better, didn't get paid for the lyrics I wrote and the gyrating I did.
Visions of sex, lust, strong drink, money, and angry words flooded my mind.
I got my daily fill of hip hop's promises for every music video I watched, for every song I bobbed my head to, for every fan I listened to.

You didn't love me.
You loved what I could do for you.

And in the end you were no different than the devil himself.

Nicholl McGuire
http://associatedcontent.com/nichollmcguire