Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2019
My homie Pac spoke the "secrets of war", you never cease in the streets till it's peace after gore, either verbal or it's physical, long as it's visible, you gain and claim your visual, individuals with rituals, mystical, dribble a force?, watch its course in the other sports!, at the beginning of the end of the day, it seems my eyes are beaming dreams when I'm meaning to pray, and I say I just wanna lay, grazing in sunshine, "baby we made it here!", playing through one line, enjoying the fun times, raising our children, I finished filming, so more time I spend with your feelings, stare at the ceiling, it seems it's peeling my vibe, holding my hand, I understand we're a tribe, get up to handle business, precision is needles, kiss you goodnight, and it sews up the evil, feeling feeble knowing that the poem I told em, never will mold em, only will bold them, still I must fold them, sold em complete, mission may be *******, but still it's unique.
Written by
Cyclone  22/M/Houston, TX
(22/M/Houston, TX)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems