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Poem
Jason Voorhees was reborn as Alex Duffy
The psycho with a pen, who will turn the most beautiful ballad ugly
I’ll make Freddy Krueger sick from the horror and the gore
Make Michael Myers cry in the corner of the store
The way I move my pen and draw blood from the paper will make them flinch
You can run from your nightmares, but you can’t escape this ink
I make love to my pad daily, but sometimes my rhymes get aborted
Wait, I just had a great rhyme I just can’t remember where I stored it
I wouldn’t use a ghost-writer even if I could afford it
I need to let go, I can’t keep this pain in
Me and Eminem write from the same pen
I was bullied, left out and made to feel like I wasn’t worthy
So I’m done writing until the pad bleeds, now I’m writing until the world begs for mercy 
So when I write on the pad I act like I’m Mike Tyson throwing a punch
I’ve got the hunger of an obese person going to lunch
Maybe I wouldn’t be so angry or heartless if I had family showing me love
Raised in foster care and spent my childhood going without hugs
I’m glad that I was broken and my heart got broke, because now I have to think
I used to toast with people, but they left me without a drink
I gave my food for thought to people who wouldn’t spare me a crumb
I gave my jacket to girls who treated me coldly 
I’m better off alone, this is what god needed to show me
The people I can trust, I can count on one hand
I’m thankful for them because they make me a better man
Isn’t it funny how pain seems like it will never end, But when we look back it actually didn’t last long
I’m not Future but I’ve got my mask on
I’ve had a lot of lessons and a few blessings
I had the balls to stand up to depression
Face it with no shield because I knew I could get the win
Commentators at the boxing match going “how much is left in him?”
Alex quitting? There’s more chance of a porn star dating a nun
The smartest people know when to play dumb
I had so much hurt in me, how could I lose when I had all of that to get off my chest
Had my heart ripped out
Ex self-harmer, constantly had my scars picked out
“oh look he’s crazy” but I stopped caring once I found self-respect
I’m flawed and imperfect
Look at the hurt I Pour in verses
The more I try, the more I deserve it
Good will come my way, and I will find it
There isn’t a word I can’t rhyme with
I’m painting the picture and I don’t need help to design it
The doubt they have for me, I don’t mind it
Ronaldo and Eminem were once told they wouldn’t make it
Jason Voorhees was reborn as a Poet, and the world can’t escape this
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