A young man
Thougb not too young
Carved from flesh
Molded by experience
Came to the river

He'd crossed it before
Before his child was born
Many years prior to
His lover's death

Mother of their son

And his son
Carved from his own flesh
Hated him
Crossed the river on his own
Leaving our hero
To ask his reflection
Clear as a mirror
In the river
"What went wrong"

More than twenty
Centuries passed

His soul was never released
Never became free
As
As a young man
He'd hoped it would be

Our hero fell into the river
The water accepted him
The water permissed him
Join the current
And so he passed
Twenty some odd
Centuries
To become some one
Who hated himself
Who dreamt only of
Oblivion
An unfortunate slip of the razor

Even thougb they aren't there
I can still feel them
The dead cold grip
Digging into my skin
Restricting my movement
Some see that I'm bounded
And ask
Why do I stil wear them
I tell them
If i take them off
New ones will take there place
The links may be broken
But I'm still bounded

Storage on overload
Ohno
Its panic mode
I'm slow like molasses
In the cold
My *** is froze.
See how fast it grows
Individual decisions
Like slivers hope.
My little nose.
My little toes.
My pinching throat.
Like mini morphing rangers
From the center
Of my temple flow
This instrumental
Mental like recession from control
And investment
In the death. Of ghetto Joe.
Regression
Lessons known
To make messages appear with
The heavens home
Get to know the
Death the life the festival
Of dia de las Muertos
And the mortal bones
Of selfish poems
Encrypted with the jealous yet deadly knowing of a little soul
Existing in a mental hole
Equipped with weapons.
Drastically making
Molasses flow.
Like a degrassi episode
Can drake dance
Crip walk
With damaged limbs
You'll never know
Aye its return to ghetto Joe
**** that thougb