“Your writing is pitiful”
Endlessly told
Hmm not original
Maybe I should go back to being criminal
So I could write a verse worth a ****
And say some **** you’d want to listen to
Or I could get political and start breaking down words like indivisible
Funny word in a country where half of us walk around invisible
90% of what I write is ****
So when I call it toilet paper
Just know I’m being literal

You see what happens to my mind
When I just sit back and unwind
My attention span becomes thin as twine
As this stream of consciousness accelerates the passage of time
And punches into hyperdrive
Before I know it
Half past 5
Blood shot eyes and not one clever rhyme