I don't talk about my opinions too much
Not really
People may say I'm opinionated and yet they've only scratched the surface
There are a lot of things I'm willing to fight for and against
But I am a firm believer in choosing your battles and waiting for the right time to say something
And if it so happens that I somehow choose my battle to be against you

Run

And Know this
It'll **** for you when the right-vibed and strong-minded people stop being complacent

Cellophane mounts,
Where the sacred forbids,
     And my ribs ache a little,
     And the sofa’s rotten,
Come the morning you weren’t here.

Laundry molds,
When the dishes welcome roach,
     And my tongue’s among dry,
     And my ankle’s gone numb,
Come the morning you weren’t here.

The music’s somewhere else,
Where the air’s more stale than before,
     And my finger’s twitch a’call,
     And my ears cry before the baby,
Come the morning you weren’t here.

Plaster cakes the floor,
When the door knocks certain death,
     And my bones start to bare,
     And my shoulder’s poking through,
Come the morning you weren’t here.

Green becomes a the fridge,
Where night’s now alter years,
     And my side starts to burn,
     And my lungs whimper when eased,
Come the morning you weren’t here.

But I am. Oh Lord! I am! And near ends
When the state sucker-punched,
     And I know you feel the same
     And our son feels the same,
Come the dawn prior day we’d fled.

My daughter is on day four of being a runaway, I am having some other serious issues in my life too...
I'm constantly seeking the next right choice as the temptations of this earth try drawing me IN.
But....Near is not enough for the evil of this earth it wants you completely!
My child like spirit that keeps me near to God is in balance with my reluctant adulthood consciousness.
Keeping this balance determines how well I can fight.
Not to mention if I thrive.
God will take care of me if I believe.
Lately this balance has given my spirit a winning fight.
But against all odds I'm face to face with the devil, if there ever was one, day and night.

There are words, swimming in her head
           an aquarium of emotion
some words are nice, but others fight,
           and cause a stir within the ocean

There are words, soaring through her head
           headed north now and then
They escape dark skies, and flee her mind,
          and hope to make it home again

Off the jump, I'm gonna rip this ****

Spit some **** that's equivalent to earthquakes.

While all wait
I'll take and break every Letter & metaphor

**** all who don't concur, for my words, are of many swords

Criss-crossing, I hit organs I hit optics **** ******* topics

I just let the lames keep talking

Every day I age, I grow a little more heartless

I am at the point where my smiles will soon sharpen
Then cut like bone saws through loose cartilage

It's funny because usually, I'm a nice person,
more like a rarity like a person Who writes cursive

Let this be the last time that my kindness is given purpose
My next words will strike like a stanched serpent

The next time you look for good, it will behind  An iron curtain.
That one soft spot will change into a hard surface.

**** Being Mr. Nice, Mr. Good, Mr. Clean more like a ***** dog or a ***** fiend.

Worthy of a better scene, worthy of a fantasy, worthy of a better dream

This will bring a better me, let these letters be a seed for a plant
That will reach, higher than the average tree, further than everyone's reach

In these words I am vanishing, in these words, I am flourishing

With these words, I am branching out, like a curse on a family tree.