I've begun to realize, how ironic my own life has become. A **** ton of pain, ha ha, now isn't that fun. It's a self destructive barrel of hate that can't chose a side… so it jokes about its own suicide. I'm not an atheist, but I don't believe in God. I've seen too much, been through too much, to the point it makes my heart stop. Echos against the cave wall, we're slowly nearing the river. While digging my own grave, the world has become so much clearer. And music is no longer art, so many revert back to poetry, I've given up on love, i’d prefer some Jasmine tea. Hurt so many people I care for, before the yonder window breaks. And I'm now in a sea, filled with liars, filled with fakes. Isn’t that just the most manic thing you've ever heard? Young man throwing a fit through life, attention completely undeserved. But i guess that explains the ******* generation, old folks blame the tech, I blame the ******* medication. Or maybe the people, cause we’re all ******* toxic, all we want to do is start fights and talk ****!

Getting heated, setting up the next verse, stretching my fingers, prepped to be taken away in that black Hearse. But I enjoy the feeling of being put behind bars, but i'll eventually need to come out to see the stars! Revving engines, getting ready for a ready for a round 3, all right world, ******* come at me! Few are even to worthy, don't get ******, you have to understand what I’m saying first, to be properly dissed... I just want to escape what feels like an endless cycle, just want to realize, that's my real in life, no more living just for survival. Wanna be happy, and soar among the clouds, be surrounded by my family, have them finally be proud. Want to live just for me, and not for anyone else! That's not a selfish wish, it's perfect in itself! Colors surround me, and all that i own. Perhaps, Heaven, could be my new home.

I
                  
                  HATE
Writing the same **** **** every day.

                              MAKES
Me feel like I'm on ******* replay!

                                             BUT
This is the only way I know how to express my love!

                                                      LOVE
Is all i don't believe in, sort of.

                                                                  THAT'S
Fine because is still don't even know if I'm going to make it!

                                                                                 I
Cry because that's all I have left in my frail body to do.

                                                                                      GAVE UP
On everything, there's no point of life, endless void, filled with....

PAIN AND STRIFE, ******* FOR MAKING ME FEEL THIS WAY, I HATE EVERY BIT OF YOU GO AWAY, AND DON'T COME BACK AGAIN ANY DAY.
                                  
                                                         ****

Met a Girl, fell in love.
Had enough faith, to call her my dove.
So it hurt so much, when she kissed another man…
I guess this is all just part of God's plan.

That was your first mistake,
Love isn't real, and neither is heartache,
But continue believing, i would love to see your “heartbreak”!
  ***** relationships, and forget about the give and take!
I hate her, and soon, you will too.
Just thinking of her, leaves our fists black and blue.

But she felt so right, to the point where now everything feels wrong.
Our little dove, caught up in another’s birdsong…
How can you not tremble when you remember her leaving?
Or the way, soon after, we began crying, chest heaving.
Your anger is just another form of passion!
You did love her, in a fashion!

Shut your mouth, that's your fault, you promised it would work out,
Talking about women, something you know nothing about.
Your a liar, and all you want is to feed your own ego!
So, i hope you know you hurt both us and Leo!

Sometimes, in love, your bound to get hurt.
Not everything is logical, and you can’t always be on high alert.
But I love you, Left Brain, with all of my heart.
Let’s dust ourselves off, and begin to restart.

Untitled Document. What a strange set of words, that speaks to me oh so completely, like the druid doth a bird. Now, I get quite lost in words such as these, for I know not what i am either. But the fact that i can help you, Untitled Document, means quite a bit to me. Means i can, form and shape you, and make you as I please. Tell you the stories of your brothers and sisters, who already have great success in this world. But what will you be? That is a question, i truly sit here and ponder, for i think i know half your destiny as it is! You were created to be special, for success! And I know, Good Mr. Document, you’ll make it in this world, all you need is a few more t’s, maybe the word flower, leave you alone for a minute or two, up to an hour. And keep crafting my most special mix i have yet to make. Writing is easy, all you need to know is how to bake.

Orphan. This word makes the least sense of all to me, to never “make sense”, to not quite “belong”. Because even when i was getting beaten by my dad, or hit by my stepmom, i knew still there was love, just a lot of hurt feelings. My words can be like venom, and now I do see clearly, what’s it like. Because life moves on. Dad gave up, found a new wife, new Mom. But i guess i don’t belong in that picture perfect family. Way too many issues, even talking to me seems to be a calamity. So i got kicked to the curb, tossed aside like a mutt. But i still realize the love, he didn't wanna give up. But my Aunt, wonderful lady, told me things, that forever freeze my heart. Made me realize i was just a lost kid, orphan, right from the start. Mom is afraid to see me, scared i'll start a fight. And, like he does with girls, this Christmas he took her side.

Suicide. Standing between life and death isn’t fun. Joke’s over, we laughed, but now can this be done? I’m tired of hating myself, while doing nothing wrong. My god, if this keeps up, one shot with this revolver and I'll be gone. It’s confusing, walking the valley of death. Putting on a brave face, so no one thinks your scared. I’ve done it all before. Don’t think your alone, or that i love you, you disgusting *****! Sorry… Sometimes, i just get angry, and scared, and lonely, and Jesus ******* Christ! This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? For me to be exposed, to feel lost, and hopeless. Well, I got what you deserve, you miserable wretch! Now leave me be, as I pull out the gun, **** it, two shots in my head will put me back in my place. ******* God, I’m like a rabbit running the turtles race. History says I’ll lose, but I believe if I believe, for it’s too late, to turn back, and run, cry, that perhaps I have an infinitesimal, that means almost ******* impossible chance… To live. To laugh. To love. To be happy. To be wanted. To want. To breath. To breath.
To breath.

The world is super ******* frightening, I'm scared of it all,
And I’m so high off fear, and about 4-6 adderall.
So keep to myself, stay quiet, and stand real tall,
Man, hope I don't get shot…

Is life really that serious, I don’t know…
But i feel like a toddler, trying to run half-time show.
Or maybe that’s all i want, and aspire to be,
But, thing is, can’t tell if I can run, or am even up on my feet.

I can't pretend to be thugged out, or a G.
I’m just stupid *** original me!
I escalate nothing to something, yet still act carefree,  
And am completely unbeneficial to society.  

I’m a complete waste of space, live with my Granny at her place,
Sometimes I swear I’m just an alien, hidden, among the human race.
And i had to get me a lady to convince myself that’s not the case.
And I give my heart to her, because we met through the fates!

And the fates will tell me yet again, if she’s meant to be my wife,
Haven’t put a ring on **** yet, but I blame my ******* up life.
And if she was cheating on me, wouldn't even be confused.
I would get exactly why you did it, but my ego would still be bruised.

Writer's block, written on to the chopping block, waiting for the crowds, all their awe and shock. My head rolling off, migraine popping up, losers talking to me, yelling to me, “Was-sup!” Teachers told me, I could amount to so much, put my mind to the music, and now I bet they think I'm such, a disservice, a loss of good life, a beautiful mind, lost to rap and rhyme.

****** of crows or a raven flock? Hearing the celestial clock, going “Tick, tock”. Lost to time, and I can't keep track, putting my songs on the top of the rack. Lost my heart, sold, like a starter cap. But don't worry y'all, least I ain't going back! Laugh at me, say my beats are hella wack. But one day I'm going to be throwing all of you like hacky sack!

Only 16, and I've already gotten my heart broken twice. Every-time you talk to a someone, it's a roll of the dice. Adults think experience is what makes a man. I think it's the bravery to say I can!

I can talk to her, I can be with you, I can be immortal, if that's what I want to do! My music makes me grow, it makes me a man! Way better, than silly old life can. That's the way of my elders, not the way of me. I loved you kids; see you on the other side of the street! Tick, on the chopping block, tock. I guess a kid doesn't have writer's block….. Straight outta love and I'm straight outta hope, being broken by the current, crushed like a rock.

Everyone beautiful is eventually meant to fall,
So I’ll just stick to being an abnormal oddball,
Won’t see me played out on piano keys,
Or executed, on my knees.
Because I’m not beautiful, I’m just me…
So what can a peon like that, ever truly be?

When I was a child, I wished to be famous,
And actually have the patience to deal with every ignoramus,
That walked up, and questioned, who the hell I was,
Without pointing a gun, and yelling “Was-sup, ***?”.
But that's just me.

Putting, pen to paper, is so **** difficult,
But writing your first anything makes you feel like you joined a cult!
Higher power, soon enough you might get your platinum card.
But if come out alive, you’ll be battle-scarred.

So what is it then? Ms. Left or Right?
Can you be happy in darkness, or do you need a little light?
Is insanity intelligence, just an unexplored part of the brain?
Or for for simply saying that, am I myself insane?
Is life as i see it, just a silly child’s game?
I don't know.

Putting pen to paper is so **** difficult,
But writing is beautiful, and now you understand the cult,
So cry not my child, I will protect you through the night.
And when day hits, we shan’t exist, but i will still hold your hand.

I feel so inconsistent, why does the page stare at me with such distaste?
I'm sorry, lately I've been different, distant, I don’t want to leave a mark on its face.
I'm hearing thing, your silence. Your still stuck in the choir.
Choir of oh so similar voices, that sing of the burning of the pyre!
And i swear i need some kind of medication, for the pain.
That doesn’t even exist, half the time, like when it rains.
It’s so quiet, and i'm found, flying on Nefarious Wings.
And your choir of voices sings, yes it does.

Alarm ringing, maybe that should be my inspiration,
Because it’s so hard to find something in this generation.
Lotta lackey’s, giving other kids flack.
I gave up on these loser, might as well call me a quack.
Because, pretend to know em, through and through.
Truth is, I know a million other kiddies just like you.
That walk like you, talk like you. They might as well just be you.
It’s OK that your confused. What I'm saying is that you need a break through.

Putting, pen to paper, is so **** difficult,
But you’ve written your life away, say bye bye to the cult!
You thought we were the realist there were ever gonna be.
But now your like Biggie, lying dead up on the streets.

And all your old so called friends, they laugh at ya,
How did ya die, who even knows, probably lynch law!
Because this industry more viscous than a ******* honey badger,  
And you weren’t **** yet to be talking how ya did, just an adder.
It’s like the old saying, “Ain't over till the fat man sings…”
Song sang, ya done, now lifting you to hell, on Nefarious Wings!