*Sometimes,
somewhere in my mind it scratches through the surface.
It eats me alive inside. So how is it that* I am *still apart of this life.
In mine,* Corruption
in my criminal mind leaves me NOT fine.
Chosen *to keep moving closer to my heart that can still be defined.
Inclined and unaligned through my spine,* I see the *story through my eyes and it pulls me behind.
My* world is unkind.
As *for this life
I used to fight,
and for I* never *shined.
So It's* FINE?
No, here I wine about the life of my corrupted minds.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
*Sometimes,
somewhere in my mind it scratches through the surface.
It eats me alive inside. So how is it that* I am *still apart of this life.
In mine,* Corruption
in my criminal mind leaves me NOT fine.
Chosen *to keep moving closer to my heart that can still be defined.
Inclined and unaligned through my spine,* I see the *story through my eyes and it pulls me behind.
My* world is unkind.
As *for this life
I used to fight,
and for I* never *shined.
So It's* FINE?
No, here I wine about the life of my corrupted minds.
Directions:
Read full poem,
Then go back and just read the Bold worlds.
