Metaphor for Decades

Been around the block
not once but twice.
I guess the first time I didn't learn the lesson;
was too proud,
too stubborn to see what was good for me
but that's the nature of the youth I once was.

I played the game of twice the fool,
singing along to dr. dre:
been there, done that;
not realizing the song was
about progression.
I stayed in that game
getting rained on like a clown.
In my secret, quiet moments
I hoped something would one day grow
not yet realizing I had to pick up the hoe.

Been around the block
not once, not twice but thrice.
I guess the second time I didn't learn the whole lesson;
was too arrogant,
too stuck on stupid to see what was good for me
but that's the nature of the youth I once was.

Halfway around the third block,
I stopped in my tracks to embrace
the bun planted in my oven.
During the nine months of incubation
all of my past came rushing at me.

Eyesight is wasted on the blind
is a statement handed down
by members of my family tree
but I started feeling adopted
when I chose the field of optometry.

Now I have three eyes:
one is looking forward,
one is looking backward
and the third is looking out
for my soon.

As I head towards the fourth block,
I'm a slave to the rhythm of struggle
and the different roles I juggle.
No longer tortured, my eyes are on the prize I see
and it's bigger than this country of the free.