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Untitled
I look at this page, and I wonder what to write.
If I should pour in every bad thing I've experienced in my life.
As if it would make a difference in how you view me and in which light.
And I don't need your reassurance to know that it's alright.
See, ignorant people say that, even when they know it's not.
They are blowing on their silver spoons, when they dip it in soup and it gets hot.
Because they don't want to burn the roofs of their mouths.
The vegetarians are protesting, trying to save the cows, while people are starving in most cities and towns.
Meanwhile all the politicians are running around looking like clowns, while kids in the inner cities can't do anything but frown.
And nothing is being done about it.
The NRA vetoed a gun law and now we have more people dead from gun violence than coins in the good luck fountain.
There are mountains that need to be scaled before we can be at peace.
Laws to be passed for all this violence to be ceased.
More blankets made of fleece, and most importantly, more bacon.... with more grease.
That is what we need to make this world a better place.
And the nameless faces placing greatness on this slave-less Earth, standing face-to-face with the disgrace of a nation complete with racial discrimination shall remain unearthed?
No, I won't let that happen.
See, I have a lot more talents than just fast rapping.
I'm a fantastic poet, and many of you may not know it, but I am a long lost descendant of Edgar Allen Poe.
No, I'm just kidding.
But I could be considering the things I think while I'm sitting awake could make or break my greatness, the hate is heinous.
And fame? That's overrated.
My goal in life isn't to make enough money to buy a new mansion with a church and cross.
It's just to get my message across.
And if I fail to do so, you will see me driving in a crappy Buick LaCrosse, I will see you, I will wave, and I will whisper, "We've lost."
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