i fall to pieces
 

You just lost your wife and child.. after the funeral is over you start to go insane.. hearing voices, seeing things.. and so forth..

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dear diary,
the past few years have been trouble, striking & sparking my mental.
but apart from the pencil, fears & the struggles, this mark is essential.
it’s carved a scar & left my heart unassembled, its supremacy reigns.
nightmares continues to haunt me, as this unfortunate memory stains.
i spill my heart to you in hopes that my emotions will blend in the page,
& spill my angered confusion & pain through this fluid, venting in rage.
my brain’s in contusions, disdained by illusions, & i’m bent in my ways.
i remain in my ruins, strained by these bruises & intensity’s flames.
cuz when lost my wife & kid four years ago, i fractured my thinking.
disturbed in my sorrow, i turned to the bottle, & was captured by drinking.
so my intentions are now to spill my every last feeling onto your paper,
& once i’m finished w/ you, i’ve got blood to shed, spawned by my razor.
i shut all my blinds & locked my door, i’m not to be bothered by neighors.
haunted by anger, each memory leaves my thought process in danger.
locked in this chambered house, as paint chips off the sides of the building.
my emotions are vacant & broken by hatred.. i despise what i’m feeling.
paranoid, fearful in every move, i can’t take my eyes off the shutter.
it was prominent after my confidence shattered that my mind was a clutter.
so i spill my heart through my voice on these pages in poisonous hatred.
i’m hearing shit. dear god, where in the fuck are these noises located?
hopes & ambitions are provoking more wishes. god, answer my questions.
the incident has left me panicked & stressed in a state of manic depression.
this is my last diary entry.. cuz since it happened my life’s been in danger.
so fuck it, here’s my goodbye, i’m sick and tired of the strife & the anger.
signed,
me

i closed the diary, & locked it in the bottom left drawer of my desk.
the incident changed my life. pained by strife, & torn by the stress.
the hallucinations & voices have got to stop.. i need to come to my senses.
sometimes i see my son, making me feel timid & somewhat defenseless.
but now it’s over, the time has come to join my family in heaven.
hoping god might save me, but i know he still won’t answer my questions.
w/ no pride or ambitions, i reached for & grabbed a knife from the kitchen.
my reasoning? well, the strife is a given.. plus the life that i’m living
i sat down at the table, & thought about the past for a moment..
all the years that have been wasted, along w/ the lives captured & stolen.
i instilled the knife. i’ll finally rest in peace, no need to worry or suffer
about my kid running away the day after he witnessed me murder his mother.

shit dude, thats sad.....but the skills you threw into that are imense......that was one of the illest pieces i have read yet....top five for sure.....keep it up

thanks

but it was a storytelling piece. nothing on the real, you feel me.

pz

up

stop it

please god stop it

This was a very deep dope ...
props , really enjoed reading this ...

OnE/1

damn,y do heads sleep on tha IILLLL pieces??

yo i like dis alot,real good story tellin up there.Twisted plot like sum The Shining type stuff.All dat sh!t jus flowed fit 2getha like a puzzle.Had all tha neccessary pieces like vocab,metties and u didnt jus rhyme @ tha end like alotta otha heads on hea.Extra IIILLLL points for dat.Keep writin n Stay ^
-Avi

^ thanks you two

adkfdfjklasd

DAMN JUST SICKWITIT mo more words for it...lol

Love the storyyyyyyy

thanks man.

This was deffinatly an ill piece, sorry to see it get slept on, I too know the frustration of slepping....

10/10

P.e.a.c.e.

Does death cry when death comes?
It's guarenteed to every-body, that is the infinate truth!
How we go isn't how it's done...
It's only a matter of proof.
Criminality isn't what we were made for...
It's what we do before they close the door.
remember Monopoly?
That 'Get Out Of Jail Free' card is just propostrophy.

Thank God it's just a story---well written
Thank God you can keep spittin'

That was some chronic shit TRUTH. I feel where that shits coming from.
I haven't posted much yet. Just slipping in easy.
But your shit made me feel better.
Cause my depression has got me fueled with pain and anger.
Hope my pills work cause serious my brain is in danger.


Kick rollin that shit on TRUTH magic stuff..