[DexLabb]

Say it out loud

they say om died well so did every soul that writes
haikus, poems and rhymes under the guise of -
a message board. no face no trace, don't say you
haven't been a little misplaced. in your life -
i know you had, depression. maybe psychosis
maybe lonely & looking for some way of closure,
i can't judge. i was that kid back 10 years ago
no place for my tears to go. rap game my vendetta,
but nobody heard like silent letters. im better now,
havent heard from old friends in forever now,
started to give up. but i still got this hope -
now when i write its not bitter, twisted fiction
the world wants connection. no, the worlds wants -
to be lied to. fed grapes and deprived of thought.
and us writers are all damaged cause we think alot.
and us writers are damaged cause we drink alot,
no friends at this depth so you sink alot.
yeah, i know. its cliche but i bet you relate,
cause you keep coming back even if you changed.
and then you wonder why. maybe its promise of glory
if some record exec read my story, or yet-
you could still be repressed. too scared to scream
so you swallow every word into the screen.
damn, whats your life mean? can't hide in the veil,
the curtains gotta retract you can't bail. nah,
im tired of hiding. im tired of the schemers,
i know my shit goes harder than most mainstreamers,
i know my shit goes harder and i won't give in,
us writers got that empty bottle in our vis-ion, shit
what if the bottle reversed from your hand,
the liquor filled up to the brim, the words spilled
all over your chin, not into your gut. and you told em'
you ready to fuck. you told em you had enough.
what then? would you turn to om? or would you,
turn to the mic or a publisher. become of worth -
see, you got two choices as a maverick like me,
you can either drown or bleed.
blood is ink, pain is a pen.
i'd like you to tell me whats it worth when im dead

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