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Jul 2019
Strength is the weakness
When sadness has the predicament of being
Comeliness
Microbes and cultured, like the brushing aside the business
The crimes and punishment, you can't save up for the love and the crass capital beating
Broken legs, break the prison humor, the convict's jungle rapping, touching the wrong towels
Breaking open skulls on the system of the broken street
Down on the hip stirring procreating street, with ******* tad adolescent folks
Never upon the crimson red, and thespian action
The resonant redacted symbol that tells you for the freedom of the lost symbols
Well, they're acting like the beats and bustards that break their necks at the shot of the bullish broken gun
Badland and Bambi could have been gladder if she were roadkill
Too bad we would be regretful and faithful
Marquis Sade and breaking the buzzing rhyme with the talk of divine tragedy
We love you pi, your irrational thinking
Got me dividing your attention, I might be grading if I start with English
Starting, the trombone blew out, the instrument was the one I was through
If I found the right hole, I'd press it better
If the fingers were wrapped and tapered, the beveled ceiling
And the pleasant mirror talks to me in my diggity
On the hollering heron on the halcyon buggying out on the funky freelance
Scarring the storms across the fire, break my bones
Serve my food to the military, break my pride
Take my mind, sell it up for tomorrow vegetables and today's debts
The droughts seem fresh in the rotten flesh, not sure if it's dehydrated
I'm blemished and pleased with my dealings, competing for the most damage
Do you wanna put a plate of food, for my last meal as a famed convict
Too bad isn't your turn to obviate all the mistakes I made in making the line before your mum
Serve it up in the Folsom prison, with the playing cons cool for their socks
Strikes and socialist assemblies turning out revolutions, like pamphlets for lost and found
We're still for freedom, I ran into the wrong neighborhood
Maybe, I followed the river where it flowed, trenchant isn't that followed a mind map
You can't move into the apartment, what kind of crap is that
Trapping me and pleasing me, and teasing me sensibly
I hope I denunciate another person on the slippery foam of frat parties
Festering droughts, freedom aborting the fedora
Hate crimes are returning the favor, in the worst possible
Tedious angst seems rather adult-like if you grow up in wrong shoes
Of your boot polishing forefather, I bet grew up in a better neighborhood
I somnambulantly place, that you want someone to talk
I talk my way out of dreams and look at faceless strife
I can't place the right word, the hurt's real honey
Humming bird like a bully underwhelmed by his tricks and traction
On the students of the same school called life
Aditya Roy
Written by
Aditya Roy  27/M/New Delhi, India
(27/M/New Delhi, India)   
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