I've got a confession to make, but I'm not ashamed

Tre's Company

Before my R.I.P

you could never find rest in my company

Square roots never equal just three

Only threes repeating

Tres' company

A line to cover me

Yet suspended underneath

Entertainment was a request made

And I gave you my puppet string

Tres company

A sudden and solo R.I.P.

Gathered in groups, so people could see

They caused my trouble

Now they desire my peaceful

A secret they'll never tell you is that

they weren't always for my best

Tres' company

Who really really knows me

It's obvious my family ain't even know

Tres' company

In my R.I.P.

They'll receive no P.E.A.C.E

I bind them to the restraints of their free-thinking

The...

His Disillusioned Mother

Somewhere in the pits between piss poor and decisions

Exists a 48-year-old mistress without an ounce of conviction.

She is the leading cause of divorce and the talk show appearances

She is the feeling in the gut of a woman's intuition.

She can be trusted with anyone's sex, but not everyone's vision.

Sold immediately and not given a receipt,

men buy into her sexy disposition.

She is the perfect recipe

Norwegian, fair-skin, blue-eyes sparkling, white smile in position

She is the broken family without her lover's permission

Home wrecker, disrespectful...true to her intentions.

Her boyfriends get uncomfortable in life-threatening situations.

She blatantly laughs at the wives wearing bags under their eyes,

crying from relationship depression.

Mama's boys are he...

The Disillusioned Hero Reflects

In a puddle of piddle, relaxes the disillusioned hero

refusing to conform to societal delusion.

In drunken meditation (clears throat) deep appreciation,

the disillusioned hero sits sipping liquid motivation

loading his weaponry in preparation for societal revelation.

Insanity well served on the verge of merging into crazy

sober-hearted, drunk-minded,

flying high courtesy of a time-release.

Deep in devastation is a pain all too deep,

running throughout the veins of both sides of his legacy.

His need to purge derives from the urge to retrieve unforgiven memories

“The lies they keep is the truth I seek.

Revenge is an apology to a heart afraid to speak.”

The disillusioned hero weeps,

drowning himself in a bottle of liquored peach,

t...

I've got a confession to make, but I'm not ashamed

You can't be in my space, because we've never been in the same phase. We could have the same name, but each reputation will have its place. You played, not just a childhood phase, you play games. I play Spades. Critical thinker, faithfully claimed -- I've played chess, mate. I've crushed lungs and the tongue's tongue is 10 tons of impression I be on some... igniting some sort of recollection. Rightfully so, justified by a personal confession. I've quite confident, I've caused someone's depression. If it helps....I feel bad for it.

Ode to the lonely Candy Canes