I got money for food, but the wrong kinds pop up
hard to converse with folks when your mental is chopped up
washed up is how I often describe my poetic balance
whip out the spirals to avoid distributing violence
you can check me and judge if I'm a threat to society
my breed barely lives to see 25, we're dying quickly
by our own route
system got us thrown out
either victims of the courthouse or the morgue house
I always work till the thread thins on my shirt
make enough to carry weight, pave roads
yet I'm still walking on dirt
what's that about?
how much kilo of knowledge can I get in this drought
I say, "oh shit!" Then I take one
make promises then break one
off...
I cough...
excuse me if my health is affected by the wealth of self
rich personality, golden immobilarity....
Try and cash that!!!!
This is real..I liked the way you told the story through this poem...GOOD Shit
Yes, yes, yes, and yes! I love it! Miss your words!