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pain becomes pleasure which morphs into art only speak when you’re spoken to sit up straight, don’t twiddle your feet don’t you get up in grown folks' business
By savage writer5 years ago in Poets
i kept lying to myself, screaming “I DON’T NEED THAT BITCH” i kept jellin, trying to act like what that person did to me ain’t even faze me
going to war, somebody grab my artillery i’m gonna need some vesthead i’m duking it out against those who wanna try to keep me silenced
verse became a centerpiece of conversation since my Asperger’s prevented me from having ones with real people and no… myself didn’t count
The bottle isn’t finished yet, hip-hip Hooray, finna’ get a check today No marks on the bills and the funds are all clean,
Raymond Season All day, every day My pen game is nuts, ain’t put that down just yet People who wronged me must be angry dat’ they failed to bury me
I look at this empty billboard on the side of a building in Lower Manhattan Thinkin’ I’m about to be on it, forget that I wanna be on the building itself in the future
On stormy, gloomy nights that I sobbed under my bed sheets at the ages of twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen because I felt unlovable.
As a child, I was told that I had an old soul. I was fourteen going on forty-five now I’m nineteen going on ninety. My wisdom is well beyond my years.
In the city, where the both of us live. We’re split in different directions, grew up in different sections. Came from different paths.
I’m longing for something I’m longing for this thing I sometimes forget how it feels Because it always gets taken away from me.
I can see through these bogus fools As if they were bills that were counterfeited. I can also shrug off the bullshit they’re flossing—