3600
One pound thorough, Thirteen ounces bred
An innocent child born, but who knew I bled
They say I'm so gangsta, and need to stop cussin
I start bustin, they ducking, then they really know me
But they really don't...
They say imma be miserable in years
My tears don't mean weakness...
I'm speechless!
A hole in my heart born with me, sin torn in me
I'm incomplete.
A doctor was chosen, my mind was frozen
He came close to me, fixed me internally...
Closed up my emotions with a stitch on my heart
So I won't let you in
It pumped steadily with beat, that when I felt the heat
this young thug speaks.
I'm emotional, mysterious, criminal-minded in the sexiest way
No fcking play, I don't give a fck about you anyways...
They say.
Mur-murs, slurs and the curse of the words, all wrong but not sin
I learned through the thin, the thick never wins
And all I want to do is just be me...
Like the day I was in The Palm of His Hand.
(Est. 2010)
This poem was written in my 20's
Stay tuned for "In the Palm of His Hand 2"
