This is me, I am who I am..
Every day I give all I can..
I'm not a gangster, but I'm a fighter
both with my fists and as a writer
I am the dark poet.. quietly killing on the lyrical scale,  
Edgar Allan Poe-etic is my poison, injected and inhaled
willingly taken, slowly destroying me from the inside out
making my veins blaze within me so that my blood cells shout
my heart beat slows as the affliction eats away almost as if to say
to drop rhymes upon the beat, slowly symphonic, deathly harmonic
Or rather perhaps, along the lines of pure demonic.
Lyrically woven into my blood, I cannot help but bleed.
Music has shaped me into the man I am, seeing in depth what you could not believe
I've seen wondrous nightmares and beautiful wastelands, you couldn't possibly conceive
The wilderness heart beating in my chest has made me a beast of a writer
For even in the darkest of my days my writings are always lighter.
Doomsdays upon apocalypses, Dragons among faeries, each of these I've dreamed
I cannot begin to explain the sheer epicness of these things I have seen.
Lyrically woven into my blood, I cannot help but bleed.