Freestyle Thought

Like a messiah nailed down. Steaks are high... Cant ask why, for me, it's do or die. You would have to live it to get it. To see why I couldnt regret it. To see what the significance is. What the brilliance in my defiance and unwillingness of compliance is. Pushes me to blow minds with ambition as ammunition. All these years, tears. I would bring to your eye. But, dont give me your pitty. I need you to hate me. Like clock work. Tic-Toc goes the sound of the cocked glock. And should it bring my demise. The word of the wise would say. Hell hath no fury like the fire that burned in his eyes when he was alive. It is the uncomparable what I pour onto this paper. Yet, here I am still behind the sceens. Breaking my back just trying to get my work seen. Looking for a way in. Or a way out. Dying inside every minute I cant figure it out. Take a walk in my shoes. And realize you couldnt even lift your feet. Instantly submerged in my missouri, you would be. Immidiatly gasping for air. And find that you cant find any anywhere. Twelve. Twentey-Eight. Eighty-Seven. Concieved into a twisted society of cocaine elietests. With an evanesence of an I used to give a damn state of mind. But, try as I might I could never rewind the hand of time. Or the blind crime that is this story. But, please. I beg you. I need you to keep feeding my flame. So that I may kill and maime you with these words I spray. Decay your brain of thoughts tought to you in vein. Dulled pain, something like the two vikaden pills distilled under my tounge. Or the loaded gun, I cock and bust at my temple just for fun. Only to see the bullets bounce off me like im here for a reason. And its only through this ink that I can seem to realease this demon. This demon, a heathen. Fallen from grace. Like I, In a world limited by race. But, inflamed and enraged by the anger hate and violance.