your regular act in life----
 

know one,-NO anything,--about the repeat feature of me--your dream flashed fictional illusions of thee--and your travels seemed fluent with the steps that were taken--but ignorance was visual cause you've been casually mistaken--With in the growth of your knowledge your sanity grew weak--But now your words distinguished like master pieces within the very words you speak--know one know all through a life filled with malice and misconstrued forces for the searching sake of a lifeless matter--
Im buried like a hatchet in the soil to forever burry the very essence of this fame we’d recognize for faith as glory—we seek life as a witness for the progression that takes our senses—Within the wish list you see a vision of your fist—If you battle to the death quiet possibly your soul will be missed—If you ride to the top to only find yourself at the bottom--then this matter with your hands regenerates a whole new problem—If we cry for the dark but turn 180 to the light—You’re following the wrong path of knowledge and what your doing is not right—
YOU ARE UNJUST
to the souls that follow beneath you—its your daughter who told you that she’d rather die than beseech you—Its your son who carries behind you a small portion of your feature and the man behind your shoulders through childhood you swore he beat you—It’s the shape of these clouds that turn to rectify what’s right—it’s the answers to all questions despite your regular act in life----

Real deep man I was feeling this ill piece....
If you have time respond to my pice "Memories" and my pice "Life through the eyes of a Bird"

thanks---uppin

uppin