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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a look into my life, as only my eye's have seen it.

Submitted: November 27, 2006

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Submitted: November 27, 2006



You ever get the sensation, and brothers, I'm sure that you have.
That our destination being incarceration, is like a mountain in our path.
Yeah we know street lingo, quick, slick talking, gun toting and violence.
It's all a part of one big scenario, see, there's a community to silence.
They mix and fix tell-lie-vision to tell our vision many things.
Murder, rape, and rob is the decision,do you understand, young man
what the hell, hell brings???
ME? I'm a first class prime example, of pure hatred uncut, I'm a sample
of how God can damn you, my soul is a murderous slut.
I'd slit your throat in a home invasion, and at your expense, have some
Brandy. To be or not to be, while your blood is slowly dripping,
I'm sipping vintage 1773.
Why, my brother? Because life is a small thing too me, I would cry
tears as blue as the sky, when my mother would beat me.
Harden my soul, you diseased woman, at the same time my aunt tried
to molest me. I've grown to beat women, and I feel like the world is
testing me.
Mother really loves son, well at least thats what she wanted the world to
believe. My soul told me "Run Child Run!" But my damn pride fell down
my sleave.
Got me stuck, I'm so afraid, shivering tears through my soul.
Reverse, brake, park the truck, and dump my hopes down a hole.
Holocaust all my memories, and execute all thy dreams.
But I swear by that God you love, you'll remember me.
Vengance is mine sayith the man who loves to scheme.
So now watch as the plot thickens, and I become a man of many things.
I'm in position to leave you wishen, clutch and cling, as the ax swings
and removes your fingers from the rings.
"PLEASE DON'T DO THIS TOO ME!!" But I've grown to
disassociate such pleas. It vaguely reminds me of the tormented
little boy crying and praying on his knees.
Whisper the whispering would slither in and out of my lips.
I know the Devils listening, as I recite the word of God on my finger tips.
"Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned, but now you lay me down to sleep."
And in that slumber, I saw the Devil grin. The controller of all that is deep.
I awake to a twisted blizzard, created all mentally. As if by some possessed
wizard, bent on my insanity.
I see wicked step fathers, and real mothers with violent intentions.
Flogged, battered, and soiled little brothers, who believe that school
is detention.
I see a house built on the other side of societies hill.
Looks like house guilt built, inside there is only one feeling you feel.
Let ignomy cover all who is responsible for that fate.
Oh, and in that house one blanket covered us all, but there was always
slop on the plate.
Sorry faithful listeners, it gets no better then this, in that dwelling
we were fucking prisoners, and pain was our bliss.
My man soft spoken, easy going, weed blowing said
"Why it got to get down like this? It's going to my head what I'm
knowing. Please stop showing me SOCIETIES FIST! The way it beats,
slaps and strangles the man that I see.."
But I told my man, soft spoken, easy going, weed blowing.
"Don't light no candles. Be cool, smooth, this shit is my destiny.."
I wont let a tear trickle, let out a gay giggle, because nothings really that
funny too me. But I will let the world miss you, and your girl kiss you,
before I grab at your money.
I've been grafted, they did the math kid, I'm a 1-2-3 type criminal.
They think I'm a bastard when I leave'm plastered.
I'm what you see as an animal.
Well I've chroniclized my small existence, or I've given you
all that I want you to know.
But if you stick around and have persistence.
I might drop you another line yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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