Real love imprinted across my fists, why? You ask. Because it hurt to keep fighting round for round to give it even after you threw the towel in. I guess sometimes real love hurts, why? Maybe so it can heal then reveal its true beauty. Why my hands? Because real love is the foundation of everything I have to give. I make amends, no sad songs, no violins. Just angel harps, harmonicas, sunny sky blues in the end, Real love always wins.
Published by Lamar H
Here you'll find the passion of a Hard-working young man out of Chesapeake, Virginia. I have been on quite the journey in life experience to be so young, I have been provided with much knowledge, perspective, and love to give the population that makes up this beautiful world. There is so much more to learn and therefore so much more to understand and give back. I am a poet and aspiring author here to do what I Love most, share an open mind, heart, and Courage to everyone willing to do the same. The children of this land we walk upon, our future, motivates my eager pursuit of knowledge and desire to give wisdom to polish the Golden minds of tomorrow. JahBless View all posts by Lamar H