Forgive me for being bitter,/
but I could cry you a river,/
and I don’t know if your boat/
is big enough to stay afloat/
on these turbulent quotes./
A sour patched kid; life ain’t sweet,/
like my Kool-Aid and tea./
As long as my heart beats,/
I’ll never run out of sheets/
for my thoughts to lay down and sleep./
Peep the sweat, tears, and blood on the leaf./
I rake these thoughts into a pile/
and see how you react to them/
as I sit back and smile./
Independent though I’m/
dependent on what I’m penning./
Follow who? Follow you?
See, I got my own lead
I got to follow through./
I follow clues of He who/
leaves behind proof/
of His existence/
and appears to be see through./
On this bandaged planet,/
I hold more weight than water,/
but spill these contaminates,/
when they’re too heavy/
for my head to handle it./
I don’t want to desecrate/
these young minds that’s great./
The ink can spill like oil/
anywhere on God’s brown soil./
I spread life instead of MegaDeath
I try to stay upbeat/
and Jazzy like Jeff./
A Fresh Prince when I grab pens/
and commence a thorough cleanse/
of ear canals for His/
Holy Spirit to flow in./