Top 3 types of people who probably need a therapist

1. Poets

Have you seen the poems here?! Most are about pain, cutting, depression, suicide, ex’s, breakups, feeling too much, and so much more. Most of us probably need a visit to the loony bin!

2. Musicians

Again, y’all feel as much as an elephant weighs, which is a lot! This means you feel lots of sadness, fear, and anger. Also, all good songs are about an artists emotional angst. So, yeah.

3. Artists
No one can beautifully paint, sculpt, and draw naked people stabbing  each other and still be sane. And also, what’s bad for the heart, is good for art. Art is filled with sadness, fear, and anger.

So, my point is, we’re all insane. Including me. See you at the wacky shack!

You look too good to be true
You must be bad
You look like my future boo
I would be glad

You look too bad to be good
I must be mad
You look like ur in the mood
Maybe just a tad.

You look too fly to be down (for me)
I must be nervous,
Because your silly *** frown
Says you might just curve us.

You look too hip to be scared
I know that I'm ripped
But when we're both in the bed
I gotta handle them hips

You look too fine to be mind
I hope I'm incorrect
I don't mind being behind
When I dig in *****

Why don't you bring those curves to us
So I can put my line in you
Koz girl this is a bad bust
And I'm finna put you in line



BUT
Most importantly.

You is you

This is for you lame poets

for those who think they can write

but aren't trying and they know it

Maybe if they used a pen right

The ink, would, in turn, show it

Scribble lines were written for pure hype

The Opposite of blurred is focused

The passion unveiled by this action is real

Massive of accents appeal, drastic yet passively chill

Why is your wackness alive and steadily actively well?

Are your points derived from a skill?

You're as dull as the night without lights or some thrill

Pick up a quill then ignite likes its hell

Shuffle your words, in return make a deal

Lies from the truth, I can easily tell

I sit in a booth, then I write what I feel

That feeling of feeling that moment of falling, emotions are heavy and heavy is frolicking

That was a lie....I hope you are following

There's a doubt in my mind, you aren't reading this properly

Do not get board...then just GO like monopoly

Maybe if I put a few words down, you will rate it

There are poets who show it...yet are still underrated

A sea full of story's that have been negated

I write what I feel and I will not be waiting

These words of chemistry clutch captivation

Winds of auroras spark smart illustrations

Verbal wasteland I recycle the sanitation

My heart pumps to fuel the blood of imagination

Devour all who find word-puzzles an aggravation

I take inspiration from various locations,then stitch words to combine these places

Now look what has happened

An arsenal of words to engage in action

Here's a hint of wordplay with a dash of passion

lyrical disaster for the eyes of the masses

Simply dedicated to the three-lined poet has bins

drank straight
god above
level heaven
contagion.

remember:
lazy approves
of room for error.
snoring counts
as blatantly losing.

blank stare
blank slate

upstairs neighbors
they were making
what could only be
violent love or
beautiful music.

either way
the whole blueprint was shaking,
the sound breaking
a vacant space.

& there was a cloud.
there was
always
a cloud.

sometimes he be spinnin
round & round & rounded
but he usually clucked out
fore ever touching ground.

uhh, shut his mouth.

not saying so long to luck
but the ***** wanted to run.

how he long to get loud
& lost in the crowd
of tired brown-
grays & blacks,
boring blues.

nature,
mother,
lackluster,
satan

kept a written record
of the whether's mood
& heavy surveillance of
his movements
as seen through
***** rear view mirrors.

she said
never better,
never clearer.

so, tomorrow
if we're still
our own & each other's
dearest,
we'll need to find the nearest payphone;
call all world leaders, demand appearance,
then apologize for all our static & interference.