backstage all alone...
head between my knees, claustrophobic zone...
a cracked bench as my throne...
eyes blurred makin every object appear cloned...
red hands from grippin the mic...
3D veins from the anxiety of the comin night...
teeth cracked cos theres nerves but nothin to bite...
blinded by the glare of an abandoned light...
no noise...jus silence...
brings back dajarvu...that dajarvu is violence...
my head tellin me that losin is non-sense...
my hearts too dense n rhymes too sick to make sense...
put the liquid to my lips 1 last time...
feel strong...like 50 i cudnt be stopped by 9...
can i keep my cool?...am i ready to rhyme?...
man im so fucked up i can't even walk in a straight line...
bout to break the dust settled upon the stage...
spittin these BARZ is like breakin out of my cage...
17 is my recorded age...full of unwanted rage...
this is a life story but i av to keep turnin the page...1

only short but can a get some feedback....will be continued!