Dear Chris,
When I think of you
I see inferior
A cub to a lion

I am Simba
Flow game unreal
The Lion King

You are Pumba
Foolish
No flow

I can't be referred to as your lioness
That's not cool bro

Hate is a red pair of Jordan's

Jealous of what they can't have
Swollen with anger
Hate derives from jealousy
Alway wanting more
To fit in with the ballers
The 7 foot giants that they'll never be

To be cooler than an ice
To hit the game winner
Crowd roaring
Adrenaline pumping and coursing
Through aching veins

To have swag
To be like MJ
To be D1 bound
To make it to the league
To get buckets
The string music
Composed by the ball swishing though the net

But it just isn't as simple
As a shiny new pair of shoes
New shoe smell
Fresh out of the box
That cause all this violence
Hatred and ruthlessness
Blood dripping on the cold dark streets

A society where
Shoe game is more important than personality

A coat of black and a dash of red,
Clinging to the cat tail, peering ahead.
Swaying with the spring breeze,
Temperature cold enough to freeze.
The red winged black bird, scarlet on black,
But a predator watches, ready to attack.

A coat of red and a face of white,
He's the reason not to go out at night.
The beast is lurking through thick spring mud,
Moving ever so carefully trying not to make a thud.
Bending its knees, ready to pounce,
Sizing up the bird, ounce for ounce.

However the bird is much too agile.
The predator will be hungry for a while.

An agile bird in the cat tails,
A beast lurks ready.
The prey is nimble, too quick.