Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2019
The same song, came wrong, just as we fame copies, you would claim you composed, but can you hoes stop me, or drop me to top me with just a cipher, who plans to stand this man that stood right for, types of, rhythms that wits em with musical fares, but as no one assists him, we listen for our refusal to impair, so where?, we mob and rob strolls, insanity is ****** to be calamity in souls, numb claps of bums can't match the drums so some attach hums but it snapped no sums, I strum, a weeping achievement and sleep with guitars that's scarred, bereaving, believing I'd reach stars, but it's ******* this boulevard, in fact all streets, plagiarizing "can you spare dimes?" to try to shine on wall street, all speak and cause heat, so I'd rather just hit pause and not repeat.
Written by
Cyclone  22/M/Houston, TX
(22/M/Houston, TX)   
47
   Cyclone
Please log in to view and add comments on poems