Quote:
Originally Posted by Rugged
hands on the earth god bless my mother, niggas on some oedipal shit
i aint preachin n sht, look a nigga alive in his soul when im speakin my shit
hate niggas; thats easy as shit, try learning to love, then teachin that shit
|
it's a fucking shame most men ain't even equipped.
no motive. sole focus to breathe and exist:
preserve yourself? how you deserve your health
with hands on your brother's neck - squeezing to grip.
Self-loathing but hopeless to see the prefix,
i'm seeking the wholesome fruits Eden can give.
consuming. confusing the seeds and their gift
by merely eating the pips.
can't let anything grow when it's greed we exhibit.
the seasons... they shift.
consistent with dead niggas swear they eager to live.
you alive though? it's only barely heat you emit.
keep bodies warm. see bodies torn to feed the eclipse.
sustenance to sustain a sequence of sin,
seethes in my skin seeing my kin sealing their end.
sacred sense seeps through my pen,
trying's counter-intuitive to catch that feeling again.
on the page i don't bleed. i extend.
feel. it begins.
why the fuck do we all need to pretend?