My soul is tired
I have no “attire”
Yet unlike a squire
I flow with fire
And I know some old souls conspire
I’m deep in a pit so low
Yes, I’ve known MUCH higher
Too damn logical to pull myself up
I need a soul supplier
So I pray LORD, COME SIRE
I wish to have the life, that I had prior
‘Cause its now down to the wire
And what have I acquired?
A flaky wraith with a shaky faith, nearly became a GOD denier
Life flipped, a strife script, this scribe ripped
Its the best way that I can describe it
Because even with faith, feels like my soul is what HE requires
Now I seek no pity, because I speak to the entire choir
That too feels tossed and lost and completely drained and tired
From emotional fragility to their spirits core & fiber
I remain confused with a few loose screws
And pain from WHOSE NOOSE, gotten me ripped and torn sinews
I forbid you to use vim too
Is what I HEAR, whenever I see the grim news
Take note, this wraith afloat shares scripts & scribbled prosody
Most possibly, because Im seeking conversational reciprocity
Obviously, my verbosity is expressed psychologically
As I wish to drop clever scripts and NEVER drop’em sloppily
And though, my rap throes never caused any cash flow
I never really sought for it to change my life economically
I KNOW Im decent, at least in the times more recent
Because MOST of what I write and recite misdone so pedagogically
And Im sure some of you picked it up quite logically
Because I fear leaving no legacy, that’s the worst atrocity
So sometimes my fulminations are spewed caustically
Most of my rage and human distaste is verbalized symbolically
Even though the pain expressed is legitimate, and its hurting me chronically
And though the pain is real, its probably GODs gift to me
To KEEP ME from irresponsibly responding pompously & obnoxiously
So I’d rather drop some homilies with constancy
Because I hold on to the promises that GOD promised me
And grasp then clasp while others laugh at me constantly
But I will prophesy and then fulfill the prophecy
So I spew no animosity, but philosophy of my ideology
All the while I thank GOD for the generosity
Of meeting me half way, periodically
And I feel loved and begotten, see?
Because that means HE hasn’t forgotten me!