I belong to that moment when 9 bullets couldn't kill a rapper so sometimes my poetry wraps itself around rappers 50 cent times.

I belong to that world where sons say high fives to dreams not of their fathers.

I belong to that queue of people waiting their turn to face the mirror, not scared of our scars before the mirror because the mirror cannot tell our stories.

I belong to the reality that sometimes my poetry is measured by snaps,
sometimes my poetry snaps you to reality,
like how we go to school dreaming of careers and end up in the streets looking for jobs.

I belong to a society that gives you 22 reasons to give up and 2 reasons not to.

I belong to that final thought of a singer who has 4 notebooks, 33 rhythms, 77 rhymes, and no studio time.

I belong to the strength when you are on your knees.
I belong to God.
I belong to after thoughts and future moments.
I belong to soft music and loud minds.
I belong to laughter and long sneezes.
I belong to miracles and heartbreaks.
I came from a smaller town but I belong here...

I belong to the city.