Hard For Them To Believe

I was asked, At a time... If I knew what I was doing? As if my thoughts, Could not produce my deeds. As if my efforts, Did not match where I lived. Since I was born and lived in the ghetto. And I should not be aware or know, Of those things I did! As If my blackness was for them limited! Like it was for friends I had, And some relatives. All believing then I was trying to be white... And not the black neighborhood kid! Who did for me, What I knew was right! They believed I should be, That kind to clown and be down to Earth. And not have a mind as creative as mine! With dreams to fulfill... That broke down barriars and walls, Others believed I existed behind! And not to know my own value or worth. Or reach for heights... Few I knew took effort to climb! I was asked, At a time... If I knew what I was doing? I am not asked 'that' question anymore. Today, Some try to downplay... My affect! But I had always known, To be grateful to be blessed. And let God handle the rest! I was asked, At a time... If I knew what I was doing? Of course I knew. From the very beginning. But the few who did not know... Now they do too! And nothing has changed... From where I live, To what I do. And that is a fact... Hard for them to believe! That I can say who I am. Be who I am. Stay where I am and know it! AND achieve!