Awoke by the scattered screams
Provoked by the shattered dreams
He goes on each day, clothing nothing more than tattered seams
Music is all he had it seems, among scars and battered spleens
A war-torn soldier, visions of blood splattered themes
Battled teams, didn’t matter schemes- he wasn’t out to gather green
He floats through the city streets, observing ciphers
“Gimmie beats!”
He placed them cats on a higher pedestal
They had the ability to spit and just forget it all
The way they could make traffic stop, look, and listen
It was the special something his life was missin’
He prayed to God for an end, many nights of wishin’
His father wasn’t home; he was adorning the stripes of prison
Holes coated his stomach, mourning a spike’s incision
Goals noted this plummet; he was alone, adoring a mics precision
Tried to in vision- nothing but booze, bitches, and bush came to his head
Nightly, he would fight for his right to party, like the Beastie Boys said
Rightly, he sat in his room trying to be artsy, flow in his dome till outside noise fled
Brainwashed by Beat Street, Ozzy, Big Daddy Kane, and ACDC- left his poise dead
A failure to the community, he searched high and low and couldn’t find unity
Standing on stage, he prayed- actin’ like he had something to prove to me
He repented the boo’s, but at last he was crushed under his own immunity
His knees got weak as he stumbled off the stage
Caged from a young age- in a fit of drunken rage he wrote another page
They thought it was another phase; the anger he displays leaves them amazed
His look was crazed- he was off in another world where he was given praise
No one would understand, his best bet was for suicide
He’d lose his pride- but still, he stepped in his closet where he hung the noose inside