this is a piece i did awhile back but was never reopened and i decided to make it longer and add some stuff... word

b4 it is writen a rhyme is non existent.
but once lead to the pad it becomes persistent.
for ever to be seen, a legend in the making.
once writen to the pad the ink stops shaking.
it drys and then becomes permanently stained.
once it is complete the verse it self is explained.
comes together like a story never been told.
piece by piece the story starts to unfold.
from made up "truths" to humble lies.
weather heard or seen it brings tears 2 the eyes.


from ink to pad a journey takes a roll.
a story for those seen by the anti-social.
from all walks of life, it is expressed threw ink.
everything we do, we do it threw ink.


when held in the pen, something never told.
ink can take any form, even that of gold.
it becomes bold, seen by those who believe.
the naive dont care. cus they dont percieve.
some decieve. but others tell the truth.
ink on pad expressed from the young youth.
its like camoflauge seen only by the chosen.
others stare blankly seeming that there frozen.
and they get mad, when there rhymes come out bad.
cus they dont know the journey of the ink to the pad.

it takes skill and wisdom to make somethin come alive.
a journey from the ink to the pad is where it all lies.
where all eyes form a door way to another road.
seeing the dry ink makes a real story unfold.
like it doesnt have to be told but just watched like amovie.
when i write i express what this world means to me.
and to be me is to be me so beyouself on the pad.
express the shit u love now and write bout wut u had.
be glad that we are blessed with skill to be bold.
like i was once told, the ink in the pen is wut is really made of gold.
use it wisely. cus once dry the story cant be erased.
so make sure u sure wut u write on the papers face.
make it follow the race of the journy from ink to pad.
cus this makes u think if it was really a dream i had.

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im so ill that cancer thinks im its father.