this crew is fuckin dead... w/e, somethin on my mind...

i've been chewed up and spit out, stomped and stepped on
body battered and bruised then left strong
my mind racin' at break neck speeds to keep up w/ the illusion
that i don't already know what caused all of these contusions
and what seemed a daydream faded away to nightmares
i'm seeing hell in my dreams, wake up then i'm right there
in the middle of the flames, gnashin teeth and meltin faces
all i want is to handle this like Malcolm dealt with racists
and stay strong maintaining righteousness and being true
but in hell doing the right thing is pretty hard to do...

__________________


"I don't want to be deep... I want to feel deep and use that feeling to express depth itself..."
-Konchance

my poetry:
untitled