An eight-year-old prodigy living his life as if it's contemporary
Plays with oddities... slingshot's revolutionizing the ordinary
Unfortunately, the child has no friends to share his personality
But he happily picks up a rock, vividly loading his weaponry
He caulks it back, intellectually, slowly... not to scare his target
Takes aim and marks it, releases his grip just to cradle a carcass
Oh Jesus, he begins to bury it. A monument symbolizes maturity
Blood filled tears seal his eyes, as he'll visualize his family's security
The purity of a functioning family, seemingly surrounding one man
Happens as a future Dad gains wisdom by palming eggs in his hand.

Nine years later he sits in a class, unaccompanied in the back corner
Raises his hand; to fake adjusting his glasses and stretches his shoulder
With every cold stare and evil eye directed his way he whispers
”Build your calluses, kid, and there will be no need for blisters…”
His inhibitions are splintered: he wants to be popular but be himself
And his spelling bee trophies are… collecting dust on the shelf
He was raised well; it’s not his fault that his parents were protective
But how can he have good manners, if he’s detected as obsessive…
Of a reflection that will never be his? He just prays for kingdom come
And I find it a damn shame: he’ll never speak his words of wisdom

Sixty years of charisma has the child aged and finally preaching acts
But the reactions he receives, are doing nothing but breaching facts,
Burning paths, and breaking pacts…his wise ways question covenants
And sixty years later, people are still shunning him and stunning him
Tired of not fitting in, he walks a tight rope stumbling over wisdom
He’s a bumbling old man, with nothing but old hope and broken vision
His decisions are based on others now. He has none of his own views
Down at the orphanage: “Haven’t you heard, kids?… God is old news!”
A bruise forms on the mans brain, too many blows from blown potential
If he didn’t stumble over wisdom, then he fumbled all his old credentials.

Tears of Ink - Tech Skills
Dynamite - Indeph

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Was he robbed of the ashphalt that cushioned his face?

this was real good. i enjoyed how it was structured so it flowed smoothly, while the vocab and rhyming in this piece was interesting to capture as well. you had some good imagery, no big downfalls. you had punctuation on point so i knew exactly how to read it....overall this was a real good piece

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this was definately a neat OM, although, i have to say, didn't feel the way you vocab'd the first verse....seemed like you were just trying too hard to get that nice rhyming flow, but it just came off as forced....but the second and third verse....loved 'em....beautiful, especially the third, near the end.....uhmm, you had a really cool topic, and expressed it well, and wrote it fantastically....well done mate

With every cold stare and evil eye directed his way he whispers
”Build your calluses, kid, and there will be no need for blisters…”
Tired of not fitting in, he walks a tight rope stumbling over wisdom
He’s a bumbling old man, with nothing but old hope and broken vision
A bruise forms on the mans brain, too many blows from blown potential
If he didn’t stumble over wisdom, then he fumbled all his old credentials.

good show

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Woah this was a really good drop i was really feeling it like drakel said really wasnt feeling the vocab usuage of the first verse but it recovered well you had nice emotions and very good feeling , your imagery was very vivid and i was really feeling this whole drop..keep it up.

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hott shit ill leave feed in a bit

yeah braw that was some hot shit i liked the way it flowed and the way it came together in my head i could picture the whole thing as if i was doing it keep it up and keep elevating hommie