a boy that's trapped in a man's body
with no source of adbodimy,
but the artistry
is a myth, you see,
i feel like i have powers, when i only have dreams,
and i give free words, but they seem like forced seeds,
and when i feel like i'm givin up, it's like treason,
because for some reason,
i'm believing,
that it's a purpose for me breathing,
and seeing,
future motion pictures
that i've already ventured,
see i come from a broken past
of a broken passion
that seemed to keep passing,
drop soemthing off that he knew couldnt grasp,
now i'm a brand new art form,
inbetween swarms,
birth into the struggle
that has to be the hustle
that i've grown to take advantage of
with very little love,
and i'm sorry that this was suppose to be a little, but i figured ya'll used to biting off more than you can chew,
so peep the view,
i'm abstract
like flashbacks
of a past back
that shot up too fast like wet crack,
and to figure i was a disposal,
but somehow turned to gold,
now i dont mean to toot my own horn,
but the boy is fresh with words like blood of a new born,
yet i'm so torn and these streets keep calling me,
and i'm late on some education and truth and my life still writes to this beat,
i still somewhat fight to be free,
but i have this sheets,
and between these lines is all my world needs to be,
all the little things you need to know about me
so, i apoligize in future time
if i boggle your mind,
cause this is my time
and my grind,
and all i got is my heart and will as my wealth,
so if you take this as small change, this penny is a lil something about myself