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Nov 28, 2013. From my OneNote |
Still gotta edit for grammer and shit, but here's another one of my stupid poems and pathetic attempts at expressing myself creatively. Enjoy. I used to have dreams, hopes and aspirations that one day I might be something to somebody else, but whatever, fuck it it's all the same, no one gives a fuck about who causes the pain, it's all about the fame so remember this name, we'll make you immortal no matter your morals, cause in the end we all end up dead so what's the point, gonna roll me another joint smoke up another then duck and cover 'cause I'll never recover I'm covered with shadows from so many heartless muthafuckers they keep pilin it on and keepin my words, my life, my experiences undercover they can't stop smotherin me with their toxic fuckin pollutin smoke surroundin me and pretendin they motherin me while the houdini in me keeps escaping from their choke hold of gasoline fumes and I still refuse to do as I'm told, non-compliant, she's such a liar, it's all denial, take her to trial, yeah the judge and the jury will deliver the justice, just like OJ and the glove that didn't fit, Nicole's death was a sham, totally unplanned, ya didn't give a damn, she a white woman probably deserved all the hurt and the pain History repeats itself again and again. So take the abuse, swallow the pain, shut your mouth and don't complain Try to keep it all inside and bury the hurt I've experienced throughout my life Sometimes it comes out through poetry, lyrically I feel like it's okay for me to express how I feel through other means as I try and disguise it just keep it quiet, not tryna start a muthafuciin riot so I continue to shy away from all of it. Stop writing and stop communicating because I have nothing of value my life is faded, according to all the men I've dated, I'm old and jaded, too thin, too fat, too complicated, skeletor, what a whore, skin's translucent just like paper, looks like a fuckin pastry crepe, no man takin that chick on a date, needs to lose a bit more weight, never was a part of the pretty girl crew, don't have some outrageous hot chick booty, not sweet enough, no real beauty, just a loser writing rhymes on my phone and in my books while I sit alone. |