Lost in her eyes Wondering why the charming type seem to act shy but love deep, we go to sleep to dream about the beautiful bein occupying our daily leeps as progression proceeds to keep the soul on its feet, underneath societys heat of constant mistreatment and misory will your souls paire to defeat any hole misseemed in lifes wrinkled sheets, we iron on straight, no crease to misplease any fabricated link. Instead of Why is my kind extinct, why is it that hip hop lines arive but dont speak, while poetry will poor out my seeds, i cry at night sometimes to fight her from talkin inside my mind "Hip Hop",, thinkin is it my time to die yet,, sudden falls in raw death,, last drip regret, wondering why it has felt so good laying on her chest. Praying that i never have stress again.. but its never the end, , forever is my purpose and the purpose provided friends,, but honestly where do i begin.

A poet should not be a High Priest
he would infamously misplease