Am i depressed or a realist
Focusing on an image
That was given since birth
That was written in the dirt
And started out as a dream
Which will always be ideal
Though someone calls it real

And am i overreacting
When i say the world is full of fatal attraction
Hidden by constant distraction

Repeatedly ******* speaks to me
And release the truth that it is based on the infamy
Of poverty
Poverty of the mind
The mind’s not rich
Not a gold mine
But i still call it mine
Simply cuz it’s all i have
Yet its a plantation for a slave to the rhythm of rollercoaster emotion
That hosting a bunch of insecurities
Because there’s no safe in a world that’s not secure
definitely