I don’t write right,
I don’t speak neat,
I write what I speak,
Leaving error for unique,
I don’t care to be fair,
And fair isn’t there,
In the battle of scare or be scared,
I fear the fears,
Fears that encapture slow,
Slow and arrogant,
To put on a snare and show,
Slow is nasty,
Nasty is the only thing I see,
In the world of winning,
I don’t write for you,
I don’t write to read,
Don’t tell me I write wrong,
These words are wrote to be freed,
Not for your benefit,
Yet you still convince my mind,
There is something wrong,
Wrong to be kind,
Wrong to be in need,
But I’m not listening,
Grab my pitchfork,
Grab moreso the pen,
Write from the hell,
Find it within and carve the shell,
Hide it within a sin,
And watch the world it’s emerged in.
