This life brings me angst
But in the gud or bad
I want to gives thankes,










This life gives me apprehension
Seeing yung boyes on DA block
Getting sidekicked and chopped
To DA coppers inventions.





I miss DA streets I once knew, where da boyes treated yuos
Like a girl in fifth sax. I don't care for dose materials. Or da purses no more on ma backe,

J just want to be treated like a human being for once,
Hopeing for like a woman. I don't need the high class Richie Rich, or da poore boyes thuggin. I'm so sick seeing dat bloodin and crip-out. I just want a blood that will be bout da love, not da colors on his house.

It was only the moon that revealed a pit of despair. An oxygen breath of no hope.
Lingered, murky the mist of solitude and deep cavern farewells.
The heart beats in tar blood.
Purist dark lips, sidekicked by eyes bullet coal black.
Piercing.
Chimes distant echoes of foot lite,
as present as the heavy still mist water.
A few strands, only a few...whistle lightly like amateur times.
It is not in this moment of Adrian Von Ziegler that she looks forward,
But in the precious dark seconds for why she looks back.