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Unreal Society Jul 2014
You work to pay your way threw life, while you pray to last another day. As time goes by you realize the strength it takes to play this game.

So I live the life I want outgoing and against amendments, earth to me is jail so i work to serve my sentence. Forced to spend eternity behind walls that don't exist. These walls were built tall and created by mental bricks.

The shackles of self doubt keep us chained down to the surface. While we deal with the stress, pain, and emotional damage, from a journey of life's questions  and the absence of answers.

It's even harder to think clear when all these distractions surround you, while brick walls made of thoughts create obstacles around you.

We create these walls and build them tall as a form of self protection, but when your guard is always up doubt will leave yourself defenseless.

With each conflict that we deal with our mental sentence extends. So bend the bars and break down the walls, from out the prison that's within.
Poem by: KLoyal  Est: 02-2014
Unreal Society Jul 2014
I was born and raised in Vegas were I have spent most of life.
Dealing with the hardships from the town of bright lights.

Welcome to Sin City but don't let the bright lights distract you, or mess around with the locals they won't hesitate to jack you. Keep your eyes open remember what town your in, and don't gamble with your life in the  city of Sin.

This town will have you confused, you might get upset, you will probably get depressed, when you gamble all your money your outcome forms to debt. Your debt forms to anger, then you break a sweat. This town's aggravations activate the rest. There is coke, pills, and ***, prostitutes to rot your brain out, slots to take your cash, while addicts run this place down.

Constant constructions in abundance while the desert gets *****.
Just to build casinos on the land, this town is outrageous. Then they advertise on billboards with clever marketing statements. It's a delusion you trust, until you gamble all your money chasing the illusion of luck.

There is a sucker born everyday, so don't get hustled by sinners.
This town was built off the presence of losses, not the essence of winners.
Poem by: KLoyal     Est: 01- 2014

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