Poetry and Poisons

Poetry Flows from me It turns no into hopefully It grows in me Within these, lines I reveal me Its hope for me When others try to lower me To their level Why the devil keep approaching me But he can never get too close to me Because I know where I'm suppose to be Dont he see that I left that one track mind In the path behind So I never look back Cover my tracks Discover the traps Poet perhaps But I am only metaphorically stating that This is really a jungle in fact We got the snakes, the rats The cats, the roaches The folks that just want to focus On the jungles posions, Well poisons that soak in And destroys us with slowness Death is so close its a sense A scent, a voice, a motion In the realm of time There are only captured moments And reenactments of what I suppose are Our ancestors but What they rewrite in them books Most of its twisted or cut Watered down or sugared up They made lemonade We dumb enough to serve them the cup But I get the last laugh because I put acid in every last cup Bottoms up!