"adversaries" poems
"lie still and let it wash over you, the was and is and soon to be.
How frightening yet effervescent the next 24 hours. The lust, and musts of future days revert to the ancient past..."
patty m.
><
the irony!
when I am stilled,
the effervescence of me
unbounded, unleashed, and the torrential rain
of words fulfilling and departing from my interior
I am
a Grand Central Station
of trains labelled
"the was and is and soon to be''
all moving in an unscheduled mayhem,
but never crashing. never accidenting,
only accenting my racing against time,
my oldest and fiercest Super Villian,
and one just knows, never can you beat time,
time, that old rascally up his sleeve card magician,
who when shuffling the deck,
he knows
what was,
what is,
and here his red eyes gleam with satisfaction,
soon to be...
He and I,
old familiar adversaries
addicted to living.
never leave the table,
never leave a *** or
a poem on the felt,
and having always felt,
firm believed,
there will always be one more,
one more gamble, another day,
to write another poem
and turning my cards over
to reveal, to revel,
in my Royal Flush of creativity,
when time, smiling face,
with his
wild card,
**** time,
who trumps me for
it,
in possess of a Five-of-a-Kind(1)
~'
and the new players,
the young poets,
slap me on the back,
saying I had a great run,
but they don't know 'bout my
secret stash,
preprogrammed to appear,
long after these fingers
cease their tangled tango of tap dancing,
my dust,
my lusts and musts
will unstilled yet be
blowing, floating in the
soon to be
so ha!
nml
6:30am
Wed Sep 10
Twenty Twenty Five
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 8:42 AM UTC
in a world where we pray to be united
within the grasp of wholehearted humanity
standing tall
we sink in the dirt beneath our feet
and holding our heads up high we sing with the utmost pride
a song of which becomes a chanting notion
setting the tone for revenging entities
growing weary of the unwanted waste we toss our visions in the sea
without daring to take the promising chance
how are we to stand together
in a castle built to crumble in its past?
and yet we become the fools
lost in the fight and lost in our grieving
we walk the streets with our banners and our anger
without understanding what we are feeling
let me take you back to nineteen sixty three
when we marched on Washington
and we were lead by a King
what merely started as the seed of a dream
became the prelude to never ending history
yet with each milestone comes adversaries
and we still cry the tears of our fallen fathers
we still cry to be free
but remember my brothers and sisters
to be mindful in your actions
for blood does not wash blood away
and because the tongue can be a sword
be mindful of every single word you say
the whole world is unjust
be emotional if you must
but the time is now to be reflective
to be knowledgeable
to be respected
because the hearts of our sons and daughters
still need to be protected
the sun my still set orange
and they moon may still shine white
the day may still end at quarter to
the moment everything is night
and in each passing day are you going to become the change that is needed to win the fight?
are you going to do what's right?
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
When you are very much upset
As something you could not get,
Absolutely no use if you regret
Surely worrying gives no outlet
If a great ambition you possess
Efforts must be made in excess
All your toil, success will assess
Then it will reach your address
If you simply weep and are sad
You make devils feel **** glad
In case hard-work is by you had
You turn all adversaries go mad
First learning is to sincerely try
Sweats alone achieve, not cry
All are watched by the vast Sky
From birth to that day they die
Never retreat and form a circle
As that will create no miracle
Face every obstacle and tackle
Heart of God, your efforts tickle.
mvvenkataraman
www.mvvenkataraman.com
SEARCH mvvenkataraman IN GOOGLE OR YAHOO
Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 8:29 AM UTC
Donald quacks. We better duck.
Tell the Cubans to mute that trumpet
While we, together, improve our luck
(or end up ruled by a Socialist Strumpet.)
The mallard was rebuked by Mitt;
adversaries began to bray.
The ducklings murmured: *guy’s unfit
to be elected anyway*...
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 5:52 PM UTC
I am invisible
and invincible,
an unknown image,
known only with
my visible mask,
an invisible soul,
hidden behind the veil,
shrouded in the
cocoon called
the body,
peeping through
two tiny holes,
from the invisible.
And the one writing,
is invisible
with an invisible heart,
penning the words
of the invisible thoughts,
flowing from the
invisible through the
cracks of the
invisible powerful mind.
An invisible soul
dwelling within
a sound visible body
with a sound
invisible mind,
doing the impossible
and great things
with giant strides
to influence and
impact my world.
I dominate and subdue
the oppressors and
adversaries with the
might of an invincible
invisible warrior.
I healed the
sick and afflicted
with the invisible and
powerful affection of
my invisible love
from my invisible heart.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 3:03 AM UTC
My scars remind me of many things…
Some I want to remember and others I want to forget.
I am pure to the truth but I swell in regret.
Shame, pain, triumph, strength… scars represent.
There are no badges to wear;
I have no pride to hide.
I am not a product of the stories;
I refuse to be a prisoner of my descents.
The past is often forgotten...
Memories distort beyond recognition.
Scars will fade, darken, stretch and shrink.
But the deep ones stay; I still can’t forget.
Emotions dissipate... or so I thought.
But now I believe they simply hide
beneath layers of damaged skin...
keeping those scars painfully alive.
It isn’t protection; it isn’t healing.
No badge I’ll wear; no pride I’ll find.
Yes, these scars are mine…
But I am not my scars! And my scars are not yours.
To some, I am marked for life;
I cannot control their stereotypes.
I **** them and their forced opinions!
They thrive on my scars; they try to create new wounds.
Sometimes, I let you see my scars… but I am far from naïve.
I know I am giving you a temptation and a tool.
Don’t try to own me… you are a fool to think you know me.
The why, when, and how is my personal mystery.
I won’t let you look beyond the fragments;
Deep below the layered scars hides my truth.
I will not allow you entry; I am still afraid.
Self-inflicted wounds are far more acceptable.
I do not wish for more scars…
to add to my repertoire.
I do not wish for more adversaries…
to shove me back into the ground.
My past is mine and mine alone; it remains a part of me.
But despite the spite I feel…
My past is not my present; my past is not my future.
And it certainly is NOT any of your business.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC
My problems never cease cuz adversaries try to bury me
But since I'm initiated by the hoods
They gats protect me catastrophe
Been with me since my family tree
Nothing crack dealers and cap peelers
Seen life early wanted to the king
So I chased figures
Lookin' at all the cold cash I was stashin'
Went from a jalopy to fly Benz
Dark tint limo roll up the indo
Cuz a brother gotta stay blitz always on a different **** never let the **** blind me
Its money over ******* fake ******* get stitches
No love bury with five slugs in ya cranium
A young ****** on a war path a
Ain't no tamin' em
Since muthaphukkas jealous I gotta stay strapped
Lookin' at the skies for better days askin' why?
My life is like this why am enticed to this?
**** imagery its the best of me
Can't help if I want to abolish slavery
Punks *** cops always chasin' me
But my mind too strong to be caught up in the wrong
I strategize with actions raw raps keep the Co's packin'
Put out an APB for a **** nigguh livin' in this streets
My heart goes out to the lonely I feel.ya pain
Don't let the burden tare ya down
Get up off ya *** if ya plan to make cash
Cuz the ***** *** government never gone give ya a reprimand of a helping hand
Lean on me and overthrow political rules
I wamt the gold and silver not the fake *** jewels
Paper currency ain't nothing but a advocate to debt
So many lost in this world breakin' a sweat
Tryna be something that's you'll never be
And if a follow the footsteps of revolutionary I'll be a threat
So what?? I'mma keep pushin' limits testin' nerves
As I sip the henney and blunt as a swerve
In my top drop feelin' right and tight
Its the black Sun Tzu
Thinkin' maybe I'll die tonight
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
Yeah it's one shot one ****
Plottin' against my enemies will soon to be killed
Bullets feedin' ya last meal
Dope rhymes sedatin' like pharmacy pills
Since hataz got no chill heads I'll drill now you leakin' out like oil spills
Or a radiator angelic caters none could create a
Flows nasty as mine poppin' a multiplicity of shells I'm one of a kind
Thoughts intertwined
****** into a demons intervention contenders in suspension from the soul lynching
Caught in the realms of heaven and hell & you can smell
The ashes burning fermentin'
time runnin' slower than molasses
My murders be classic enemies dramatic causin' static
Shoot more than Bird combined with Magic
Workin' my Johnson on the tracks tonsils sittin' as a hip hop consul underground magul
**** longer than Repunzels hair follicles
Cookin' up sigils into a *** of gold no rainbow snortin' sir nose
D'void of Funk rattlin' the earth from the bass in my trunk blazin' skunks
Abraxas I'm embracin' one of my goetias when facin' ain't no replacin'
Fools givin' chase
and to tastes of demonic faces
My flows replenish like **** laces
Blunts turn into ashes dump it out on the masses
Epidemic mase deaden your pace hazardous like toxic waste
Adversaries don't wanna face
Off like Nicolas to Travolta livin' in an ultra violent culture
Cleatin' into ya flesh I be the stalkin' Vulture mulchin' ya
'til ya
A dissembled particle blank photo in the article from curvin' emcees with my surgical
lyrical sickle stare into ya eyes as the blood trickles
Down ya body you easily brickled rhymes artificial
My soul sour as a pickle no tickles
Could move me or influence thee my legacy
Lay cinematography like A. Hitchcock in the 50s huh
Ya soon to be a death reel for thrills
Rememeber
All I need is one shot one **** forreal!!!!
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 4:57 PM UTC
Nine months after I was born, the Twentieth Century began to collapse.
East Berlin,graffiti-mural concrete, a jutted enigma scratched
on ordinance maps, the sort found
landscaping westernized Primary School walls.
Where within, labored in real time, the television told my parents
(and everyone else given to social conservation in 1989) that a wall falling down
would bring an end to the gap between the working and the working poor.
Freedom waited for many on the other side.
But of course, History draws up different plans.
Never content to just go out with a bash, or to
fleetingly drift by leaving
in its absence an underwhelmed lull
The bloodiest century yet
left the new world entrenched
in an odyssey of hatreds
handed down from the past
right about the time human suffering became a bit dull
and the peaceful countries were too busy
tripling their money instead.
What does History really teach us and what are the real benefits
of being free, or freer than you were before?
Human ambition, which burns it way out of any oasis of calm,
which calls children out of sleeping in the night
Always seeks out the exhaustible
An inveterate Black sheep leading astray
the ever susceptible ****** lamb
Delusion’s strange bedfellows are the worthiest adversaries
to run away from, to reserve contrition for.
Unlike the inevitability of uprooted animal migration
during a monsoon swell
Can a people with an invested addiction
to the pursuit of happiness
Ever truly be prepared
for the inevitability of rapid change?
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
an old familiar,
an adversary of the first degree,
when we wrestle,
me and this god
disguised as an angel disguised as man,
the door to where we tangle,
clicks shut with a perceptible oval sounding,
a trumpet announcing commencement of the festivities,
that we are
Occupado
no stray observers permitted in,
the room entrances locked,
someone's two hands upon each temple,
(cannot be mine, for)
inside we combat literally,
"mano-a-mano"
hand to hand,
word to word,
gradually, continuously,
up close and personally,
one on
One
over the course of a lifetime,
each battle named,
famously borrowed and thus recorded,
Agincourt, Waterloo, Gettysburg, Leningrad, Ðiên Biên Phú,
for the record keeping purposes of our unforgiving ******
historian
the rules of engagement somewhat flexible,
biting, choking, eye gouging,
kicking when down, not just legal,
encouraged, no holds barred,
when we wrestle,
the dirtier the
better
take turns declaring a victor,
for that matters little, truly,
just a record keeping notation,
the battle and its aftermath,
the waves of pain inflicted,
the casualty count engorged,
is the greatest glory,
dans une manière de
parler
though sent away the children,
our earthly goods,
designating them purportedly,
non-combatants observers,
yet 'no rules' meant
they could be accidentally drawn in,
non-combatant status does not prevent them
from being freely captured or
killed
the conflict ongoing,
no one ever calls for a truce,
for both unequal adversaries know,
no quarter will ere be given,
and though the tide shifts,
each individual battle produces as always,
a winner and a
loser
noisy affairs,
long after the battle,
the slain yet scream,
perhaps I am confused,
perhaps it is the day's survivors,
announcing that sadly,
they are still
alive
it must be the latter,
for here I am writing and recording,
and though alone,
I hear an ever growing louder,
gouging sine wave scream piercing,
daring my soul to leave my wracked
body
for though mortal wounded,
I am therefore
both dead and alive,
but which more so,
none can surely
say
this conflict remains
unconcluded
the pain in my hip, now
everywhere,
my Jacob, now, Israel,
marker
so visible even if itself,
unseen
3:59am
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC
Hooked and hung to the chair,
tethered by a strap-
colour akin to your hair-
you sat and stared
at another essay to be handed in
by three pm, next-week-Wednesday.
A-future-whatever is another
lustful thought, failed and
let down by little taught.
Again! Why a wife is so hard to find
in brambled streets or box hedged
squares, rectangular and receipt like?
Give up and give in,
walk drunk drinking sloe gin.
That way love is but blackthorn berries
the controversial, speechless adversaries.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
Im the hardest to Hit
Since Tupac *******
On Killuminati
Somebody pass me the 12 guage shotti
Now feel these slugs hit yo body
Enemies bleed indeed love for greed
Feeds a ***** soul
Since theres no rest for the wickedness
Evilness is an imperative of mankind
Pack a chromed .45 and a black .9
As thoughts began to unravel from my mind
lookin' for adversaries to put
on flat lines
Middle finger to one time
I pull down my pants
so them ******* can **** my ****
NOW WHOS THE REAL TRICK?
im reachin' through souls
Of young boys n girls
They hate me cuz the way i swirl
Money with my two middle fingers to the world
Have no fear cuz the Lord is here
In flesh he puttin' me through a test
For my heart
Battlin' tactics im growin' frantic
Never see me panic
Now you punk *** critics show me yo heart
Puttin' rounds in yo chest
Now ya dearly depart
No sorrow from me on a mission
Hittin' yo number one charts
With this **** ****
my ****** feel this from East to West Coast
Though I'm From the South i still
Love to boast
Makin' a ghetto toast
To the real
Got every heart in the burbs to slums
Packin' steel
No time to back downs soon ill be holdin' the crown
Mild scars from breakin' the slaveryyy
Wither its reason or rhyme to crime and strife
We embracin' that **** life!!!
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 7:47 AM UTC
May my adversaries be strong,
so I may become stronger
May luck be against me,
so I may learn to be certain
May fate present no opportunities,
so I may forge my own
May I never succeed,
so I may live to my fullest potential
May I reach perfection,
Through my resolve.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
Given to us at birth,
The way we live on Earth,
In our colour,race and faith,
Always some who are born to hate.
Their adversaries are the same!
Bombs against life go flying,
While the young innocent ones lay dying,
Boys who have grown into men,
Tortured by their beliefs and fighting again.
They are all the same!
Both breathe the same air,
Have the same thoughts,
Both want the same,
Peace of some sort!
We are all the same !
Our globe is so big,
Their thoughts so small
They can't or won't see,
Its big enough for all
Are we all the same?
Feb 26, 2011
Feb 26, 2011 at 2:10 AM UTC
Find your identity
Not in your Suffering,
No, we survive trauma
But keep on living because
Someone loved us once
Told us we can achieve
Anything
Fail I may but there’s comfort
In the safe heaven of your warmth
Yes, you guide me to a path
Of self-discovery, until I
Realised my full potential
Grandmother’s prayer
Spirit rekindled
Arise
The entire universe is wrapped
Around your slender neck
which translates as; Woman you
Are so God **** Beautiful
God done made you,
Beautifully crafted in a raw material
Known as melanin with a heart of gold
And your eyes contains all the light
God used to make all humans
For the love of God, celebrate you
For you smile in the face of adversaries
You raise the bar and brake records
At the setting of the dawn, and if anyone
Should look down on you
Made you feel inconsequential
Do not curse
Know your identity
You are not your mistakes,
No, not even painful childhood
Memories can define you
Woman your fireflies heart
Raptures in brilliance
Constantly,
Which allows you
To never doubt your worth
You are ingrained with love
Yes, you are the best version of you
Even in difficult circumstance
I admire that bravery
Down your spine
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 12:59 AM UTC
you ask me what it's like to be black
and i'll tell you it's a warm soulful fulfilling feeling
like a pair of new Chucks on the hot pavement jumping scotch on a busy summer day
eating cool iced pops and not ever being afraid
and smelling the warm carmel cake cooling on the stove
and the togetherness on a Sunday evening in grandmama's home
but you ask me what it's like to be black
in america
and i'll fall silent of conversation
because as you see history repeats itself
i don't understand why there is still need for explanation
in deep adversaries and hateful unappreciation
here we stand to be questioned by an authoritative negation
and ignorant folk,
why do you ask me such things?
why are you people mad?
why is it about race?
and i'll ask you, why does the caged bird sing?
is he not entitled to his song or his wings?
as green as the earth and as blue as the sky
i will only explain to an ear willing to listen
to a being with a sound heart and a firm mind
because as God as my witness we were created as equal
and for that given right we must die?
i will sit back and in turn ask you why;
i bet you couldn't say
and maybe we will all learn the answer some day
so join me in prayer will you?
join me as i pray:
*to the children of Chicago
who can't go out to play
to the sons and fathers of
Missouri and Florida and New York
who will never again see the light of day
to the mother's pain that may fade
but won't ever go away
to the hateful people and their hateful words and their hateful ways
God won't You heal their pain?*
they're so hard on us, Lord
now we're hard on ourselves
and on our knees we have fallen
needing guidance and help
because it isn't about being privilged
or living for the light we're consumed in
being black in america is no longer about being accepted as black
it's about being accepted as human.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
Yo I got skillz by the millions
With tons of ammunition
Who fuckin' with the commission my mission
Is to control the rap game blow fish tactics
From ******* who **** quick my **** stick
Slick leave em with one eye patch cookin' up another batch
Can ya catch
The madness of real ***** with multiple figures money surpassin' the aurora
Hardcorer grim explorer non could ignore tha
Deadly pedigrees sheddin so beautifully
Im feelin' like Mango Slade cuts through like a blade
Lyrics colder than the words from Chuckie
Coastin' spells I do it well it ain't hard to tell
While ya souls fail another body destined to hell
It's Yosef ninth gate chillin' over ya crates
Like a demon intervention got ya nerves
Penchin' and itchin' soon to be twitchin' and inchin'
My every move I'm takin' ove the earthly ground
Bow down what's that it's the Southside
Breakin' em down so ya bound to drown
My armed men stack men from the guns
That back bend to the roads ya
End
No longer boys to men to deaths I comprehend
Takin' on deadly sins seven to chose from
I'm makin' chaos from USA to the New Jerusalem
And who's dumb? Enough to **** with me
While I'm on my Crazy *** leavin' ya stunned
And outdunned and who can
Come?
Against my magnificence layin' hellish scents
In the forms of an emodiment
Who could stop it
Since adversaries are culprit let the snakes
Shake and take away these painful memories
Yeah I'm dreadin' ya head missin' the feds
*** I got more bread than Pillsbury dough
So quick with the skills and I
Know
Suckas don't wanna go toe to
Toe
**** mics worse than Exodus who can plex with us
The coldest strong as a swingin' boulders
Knockin' ya head off ya shoulders I thought I told ya
Southside stay running with hidden
Soldiers
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
Her saturate beauty
in violet black light.
The narcotic consent
some Saturday plight.
Colours are bleeding
a vivid dream night.
Lysergic Acid Diethylamide,
Right?
A sleep pattern paisley
purple and green.
Faceless adversaries
heard, yet unseen.
A motionless panic,
unable to run.
Contorted, curled fingers,
now, isn't this fun.
Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 12:19 AM UTC
The heart breaks every so often
at the sound of closing doors.
The unstaying
(or even the uncoming)
drives its point
that maybe
it isn’t an option to settle.
One wonders
why yet again
love,
in essence,
is not enough
to bar life’s egress?
It’s a classic tale of hurting,
really,
where there are no heroes
or heroines,
only adversaries,
these hearts despairing,
accustomed to vacationing affections
that leave after the season’s end.
091615
for c.d.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
There were sixty-five
valentines for you
I colored the one from me
your favorite blue
I didn't know
the whole world loves you too
with sixty-four adversaries
I guess we could be through
So did they all say
"I Love You"
or "be mine today
& every day
I want to be your valentine
Be Mine"
or did they say that "I
only want to love you"
and after twenty solid years
could it really be we're through
There were sixty-five
valentines for you
I colored the one from me
your favorite blue
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:16 AM UTC
In little coffeeshops
By the back corner, far from the exits
But near the little hall leading to the bathroom
At a time set by a large window
The poet, his soul filled with words and reasons to say them
But unsure how to convey them
Can observe the nerves and synapses
Converging in this single axis
The windowside throne, the great looking glass
Provides a view of every soul to pass
Through the door to the core of any good café
The front register
Where they serve the junkies
Their first no cream no sugar fix of the day
The register girl on this sunrise shift stands tall and wears
A pleasant smile
Like a suit of armor
For the fractures frayed and loosened pieces
Of her 65 hours a week between two jobs psyche
From his back corner vantage point
The poet sees this early morning warrior
And watches her adversaries approach
The sleep deprived and the caffeine dependent
The men in suits with leather briefcases
Hustling and bustling through self inflicted exhaustion
Work force revenants who begin to shamble through the door
Out of the early morning mists at about 5:30
just as the world is shrugging of the shroud of night
In his seat of power, the poet, lord of the room
Can see, despite the dim lights of the coffeeshop
These early birds, gaunt and hungry like vultures
Standing shoulder to shoulder with the last of the night owls
Shabby old things with ruffled feathers
Too tired to sleep or simply without a roost.
Their re rimmed eyes provide a window
Through which a sovereign of the word
May glance upon their tired souls
Yes from that lovely back corner
The poet is a king, a lord in noble regality
Reshaping reality
Sitting in the back of any coffee shop
In Phoenix Arizona
In America
In the world
In this whole great evergrowing span of universe
And turning people into words.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
The worlds problems will never cease
Without mediators and adversaries for peace
Our mission will not be complete
Until it's achieved
Please
Take a step with me
In the direction of where we want to be
In the world of peace
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 7:54 AM UTC
Forgiveness isn’t that easy,
Especially with wounds so deep.
After all,life is like a daisy,
Its beauty forever can’t keep.
Enemies backbiting innocence,
And even tarnishes your flesh.
But in us is God’s presence;
To forgive is to love also what is trash.
Therefore, I ask of a merciful heart,
That peace can enter to where it belongs.
Then I shall do my part,
Absolve others’ sins to me and love prolongs.
Lord, keep me at bay,
That I may be like you:
To love unconditionally is to stay,
Well,grounded as you do.
Never to see adversaries as pagans,
But as my own neighbor.
This is us,Christians,
Imperfect but we’ll never abhor.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
Open up your eyes realize
Everybody out to get you sin through
Ya body mind and soul take control
Don't let the ******** bury you
Take a sip of this tangeray
To calm you
Picture your adversaries buried
Restin' with the rest of the dead
Puffin' **** clock Gs til.my eyes bloodshed
Look in my eyes tell.me what you see?
Ya see a nigguh down for the Revolutionary
Most see an early cemetery I never worry
God's on my side but I was put on this earth for suicide
Can't hide from the pressure
Since I'm.human I'm.prone to feelings
I mentally prepare myself Cuz I'll be murdered in cold blood
From a bunch of thugs
Naw! not street thugs I'm.talkin' DC thugs
They stay lurkin' in the dark
And there I was
Chillin' suddenly I seen a spark
Eyes flash quickly death roads ahead
Will I struggle and toggle to survive?
Or will I let the crossover thrive?
On me my soul wants to be free
Damage is done so theres no more saving me
Its time to go done being bounded on hells shoulder
Tryna find a heaven but I'm.stuck in this boulder as my body grows colder
I'm shell shocked
I thought I told ya this is the ballad of a dead souljaaaaaaaa!!
Ballad of a dead souljaaaaaa!!
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC