We attempt to victimize,
those who we believe tell us lies,
but we do not take time to sympathize,
instead we drown out their cries,
with thoughts of our future prize,
and how we will one day reach the skies,
and then we can be wise,
and attempt to apprise,
those who we once chastised,
but it is too late and it is us they despise,
they see no compromise,
as we are the cause of their demise,
it is too late to revise,
why do you show surprise?
when you stepped on their rise,
spouting **** like "everyone dies",
meanwhile your have grown in size,
thanks to stealing their supplies,
and murdering their allies,
all so you can excuse yourself from seeing the pain in their eyes.

You think you are someone of great strength in mind,
as you belittle all the people around you,
for the sake of not appearing kind,
because it was the only thing you knew.
Taught to be tough and a big boy,
you can go and use a gun as a toy,
become accustomed to the ability to destroy.
As you see nothing wrong from stealing the light in one's eyes,
being the artist of their demise,
as you ruin their families lies.
BANG, BANG, BANG,
goes the gun in your hand,
over a dead body you stand,
just as you planned.
Put that hit on that sonofabitch,
it went off without a hitch,
now you a man who put someone in a ditch.
The only sacrifice is morality,
but you are so young, you don't see the brutality,
only the gangster mentality,
so you can live in the violent normality,
not realizing that you have lost touch with reality.
But that is a life that no longer belongs,
replaced by coke, *** and bongs,
you will never know that what you do is wrong,
until you hear the bell's gong,
and it is you who is gone.

Here I am again,
drunk, alone, tired...
I cannot sleep,
although not due to lack of effort.
Thoughts running through my head,
skipping over my qualms,
about how much I love you,
enough to make me have sweaty palms.
Making me think of the dumb cheesy poems,
which I would write with love in my heart,
because you cause such joy for me,
but you are so far away,
I live life in solitude,
keeping the ****** at bay.
But it isn't that which tears me apart,
because I could **** anyone...
it is because of the setting sun I see ahead,
while you see the rising sun.

It is going too fast,
like the speed of light,
I used to wait so long,
now it is out of sight.
Looking back and seeing it gone,
faster than the blink of an eye,
one second morning,
next its dawn.
Nothing I can hold,
grasp real close,
only fading memories,
of when I wish time froze.

I am the oppressed,
and you are the master,
holding me since birth,
as I am evolutions disaster.
I have a tendency for violent outbreaks,
created by institutionalized racism,
they say be "normal", there are choices...
yet within our beliefs there is a chasm.

For I was born without an option,
and went where I was led,
my only freedom was my adoption,
into the gangs for whom I bled.

While society cites me as a statistic,
I am just an average man,
pushed to the point of being sadistic,
because for the blacks there is no plan.

Do not group me with the heathens,
or make me out to be a sociopath,
I went where I saw life's beacons,
and as a child I was caught in that wrath.

Someday this will all end,
that day that I will be dead,
revolution will strike society,
like a bullet in the head.

Sirens screaming in the distance,
searching for a victim,
a black man hiding in the shadows,
running from his life's battles.
Since the ripe age of fourteen,
he went to school in pain and death,
fond of the power of a weapon,
and the ability to steal someone's breath.
Taught that the only way to be,
is the life of an O.G.,
the hood is all you got,
that is until you are caught.
In the jail the oppression continues,
with the pigs up high,
and the blacks down below,
with this dynamic, the resentment will grow.
When the victim is finally out,
expected to fit into society,
yet this setback put him on the wrong route,
only seen for his notoriety.
So who are we to blame him,
when he sees stars within drugs,
all his opportunities are now dim,
pushing him back in with the thugs.

We expect him to grow and move on,
but the pressure on his head won't allow such bliss,
the only way out is the way with the gun,
such is the life when on the run.

I was drunk off love,
but now I'm hungover.
Your kiss was the last shot I had,
before I threw up my words,
regretting them now that I'm sober...
The hangover cure,
is grab another beer,
and find a nice young lass.
This cures the pain,
but not the problem,
as I drink this love like a drain.