The saying goes 'even genius asks questions"
My quest to be the best is one of my stresses so my question is
When will i be able to breathe (huh)
I’m at war with myself continuously and nobody sees
The hurt, no one deserves to live cursed
but strangely enough i was prepared for the worst
Sure nuff society has taken me for granted
I’m slanted the rose in the concrete feeling abandoned
it was handed to me to live this filthy life of grief
my prophecy fulfilled but the stress is killing me
please lord when you take me, that day i die
how long will they mourn me, how long will they cry?