Cut off my ****
So I won't be ******.
When I'm gone,
Tell me I'll be missed.
Reality and dreams
Like a knife and wrist.
It bites the dust,
Bites like a *****.
Is there any use fighting it?

Show them riot ****.
I'll crash from going
On autopilot.
I feel a silent itch,
Urging to be scratched.
How odd,
Like a dragon with a lit match.

Giving you rock swift rap,
I hope you don't miss that.


I'm tired of sitting back.
A liar a truth lacks,
Aspire the roof's track,
Pure emerald green,
Because I'm higher,
And I ain't even smoke that.

This is just the beginning,
It ain't over yet.

Originally written 3/25/11
Revised 10/17/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith