Hey, you may think that I'm a gangster,

The way I dress, they way I speak you,

But, that's not me men, that's, my EGO men,

Sometimes he catchs me,

and he tries to pull me back in.

But, when I have nothing  left to paid,

I resisted and said:

-Hey EGO how it goes in?

-I think, I were born to win...

-EGO, can you believe?

" EGO, you are the real me.”

Night is when everything catchs me.
The worry the anxiety the fear.
That loud voice in my head, which begs Me to make it stop hurting.
Trying to heal each wound one by one.
I hate the night because that's when my terror begins.

Crash into me, brush aside your wasted time, I have a rhythm for your mind.

I’ve been ******* on a dime, I like it’s flavor, I know I am odd.

Can you ******* rythme, can you feel it’s metal zinging on your mind?

I’ve been working on this for some time, working up line by line building the ****** to engage your brain dragging you deep into my mind.

This is the depth of my existence, the ink bleeds from my arteries. Poetry is what I leave behind, my missy floods of expression.

Your left swimming in my pools of formatted creations, passion brings you to my surface.

I zing upon your mind, the taste is like metal, cool and you climb my mountains of rhymes. I’ll catch you if you fall, my rhythm catchs everything.

This rolls so easily off the tip of my tongue, like a cool breath exhaled with my rythme following behind. I plant my poetic kiss upon this page for you to consume.

Thanks for stopping by.

© 2020 By Amanda Shelton