A child growing out of his clothes, into grown folk
A metaphor for metamorphosis,
A child looking within, questioning, if there’s an adult in this
His childhood of little resourcefulness still made him fortunate
It formed a fighter from birth, against evil’s extortionist
As he was marked from the start like the A of adulteress
No pretty dimes on his line, petty crimes to his name
He’s penny wise with his time, plenty wise for his age
Open wounds made him an open book, his cover couldn’t stay
Every year a flipped page, read between the lines under his eyes
He looks aged, his childhood misplaced
Lost himself, like slaves and last names
The child’s aim was to arrive to adult destiny
He was never given the train
His “Rite Of” Passage
the underground railroad
He freed himself from mental chains
He became
his own Harriet Tubman,
Fled from home, got hip to runnin
Walked through the hills and valleys
reminiscing on fam in Cali
They thought he left to rebel
but truth is he misses em badly
Long ago, his parents a Jack and Jill
went whack for real,
colliding down a hill,
They were taken,
gravity steals
It’s fill of will over them still
And ever since the spill,
they been ill
popped the pills
caught the chills
unpaid bills
losing everything
so they became his Achilles heel
Left an orphan to look like Prodigal,
but the optical isn’t real
His struggle doesn’t appeal,
so many stare unaware,
looks can ****
Labeled as a runaway,
he just took ambition, and ran with it
He can’t look back to miss them, he has to travel the distance
He’s set sight on his vision
He lost everything in the year twenty twenty
So how is he still running?
he lost the baggage with it
A child running out of lessons from adolescence
Adulting is different
He grew up hard and fast,
busted through the concrete
Ready to make the past his *** screamed “put it behind me!”
Hurt people hurt people
So he declared “it’s all love”
They hit him, he gets back up
Thanks to The God up above
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 11:49 PM UTC
A child growing out of his clothes, into grown folk
A metaphor for metamorphosis,
A child looking within, questioning, if there’s an adult in this
His childhood of little resourcefulness still made him fortunate
It formed a fighter from birth, against evil’s extortionist
As he was marked from the start like the A of adulteress
No pretty dimes on his line, petty crimes to his name
He’s penny wise with his time, plenty wise for his age
Open wounds made him an open book, his cover couldn’t stay
Every year a flipped page, read between the lines under his eyes
He looks aged, his childhood misplaced
Lost himself, like slaves and last names
The child’s aim was to arrive to adult destiny
He was never given the train
His “Rite Of” Passage
the underground railroad
He freed himself from mental chains
He became
his own Harriet Tubman,
Fled from home, got hip to runnin
Walked through the hills and valleys
reminiscing on fam in Cali
They thought he left to rebel
but truth is he misses em badly
Long ago, his parents a Jack and Jill
went whack for real,
colliding down a hill,
They were taken,
gravity steals
It’s fill of will over them still
And ever since the spill,
they been ill
popped the pills
caught the chills
unpaid bills
losing everything
so they became his Achilles heel
Left an orphan to look like Prodigal,
but the optical isn’t real
His struggle doesn’t appeal,
so many stare unaware,
looks can ****
Labeled as a runaway,
he just took ambition, and ran with it
He can’t look back to miss them, he has to travel the distance
He’s set sight on his vision
He lost everything in the year twenty twenty
So how is he still running?
he lost the baggage with it
A child running out of lessons from adolescence
Adulting is different
He grew up hard and fast,
busted through the concrete
Ready to make the past his *** screamed “put it behind me!”
Hurt people hurt people
So he declared “it’s all love”
They hit him, he gets back up
Thanks to The God up above