Who the hell you think are to be demanding me a poem?
Mozart of this art like all these written no-gimmick lyrics are my profession,
Woah, that flow's a shard piercin' you and while you're bleedin', I tell you a fine confession:
This is freedom of expression, this is me out of depression, physics is nowhere near a suggestion for reason behind the never-yet-reached depths of my perception.

Boy you be readin' these ill lines by a writer so sublime, you couldn't fathom or imagine what it's like to be behind the steerin' wheel of the high-paced drive up in my mind,
All these spitting free-verse like that's skilled, yeah sure but they're nowhere close to flowin' poems so potent it could blind,
You can play this like over to cope, you'll need to pause and rewind not one, two, three but at least four times.

This is be that sick spittin' raw ****, you aint heard on the radio,
This be that thick ****, masculinity half gentleman half wild-lion ROAR and make those ladies hoes,
This be the new age slim shady yo, basic rappers way too slow, Mumble rapping on a track and reading **** like BABY PRO,
Na **** that mainstream ****, dawg this be that underground vicious ****,
Boy I've been slitting throat downtown before rap ever was for the ***** *****,
I'm that middle-school rap era, where gangsters could mean black but also Vinnie Paz, shout-out to the most-feared real-deal Gladiator straight from that Sicily pit,
I love Paz for his delivery, flow and anti-gimmicky lyrical potency like no other G that'***** that'***** the scene,
I love Tech for the flow man, Em for the show and love Minaj for puns and Hopsin for being the pioneer or bringing REAL RAP back, he's a cunning industry player but **** HE GOT FLOW. Chris Webby for the raw masculinity-vibe progressive ****, spreading those vibes getting the world to hear his messages,
I love Bugzy and Devs and a little Wiley doesn't hurt,
Grime Scene's a beautiful off-shoot of rap that unlike mumble crap is an old beautiful tree that grew straight from the dirt,
Imma leave it here, let me on this site so your ***** can squirt,
If you're a guy you'll wish you were me but turnin' me down's buryin' what you know be that legit **** that like a Phoenix'll rebirth.

tears feel good on my raw, cut skin
maybe that's why i cry so much

how did it feel when you saw me hit the ground
when you heard earth break under me
the coldness of your heart that infected with a touch
when you saw me get up and wobble away
out the door in the middle of school
i left i wouldn’t come back
i’d leave
leave everything behind
not having to do it again with the same stupid people and the same **** emotions
never again
you watched me as i walked out and you cursed under your breath “**** i didn’t mean it”
you didn’t ******* mean it then why was this not the first time
what was this a daily thing in your routine
but no i won’t have it cause i’m done tonight
you won’t see me again

and it's always about the timing or the circumstances
it's always an "I'm busy" text message that fades into days of silence
it's when you notice how he used to compliment your mind
and now he only ever calls you beautiful when you're bare inbetween his sheets
and you tell yourself he's just a boy
this is what boy's do
it will get better
but "you're my girl" turns into "I don't think this is working"
and you're crying again
and you wonder why you keep having the same ending with different people

and you're wide awake in the middle of the night wishing he'd call
and then he'll miss you enough to want you but never enough to stay
and you worry you are so good at finding the wrong love you won't know how to recognize the right

I've thought about it,
Time and time again
I've thought about just splitting my chest open and letting myself spill out onto the dinning room table
And just leaving the mess there until its sticky and maroon
But I never do
My biggest fear though,
is not how painful it will be to slice through my own flesh
My biggest fear is that I'll never pick up the knife and actually allow myself to feel it

i think back to the night we met,
on the rooftop, whilst the city slept,
dreamt,
just the two of us,
sixteen year old me,
full of innocence
oblivious to the fact that love was going to be part of my next chapter,

oh how time flies.
here i am,
by your side, twenty year old me,
full of adoration,
and your admiration.
the craving for your love,
that being unconditional.

oh how lucky i am,
so young and still blooming,
to experience something so pure,
something so soothing.
and here i will be, by your side,
when all i will be,
will be a dying sunflower,
by the tide.

-ehx