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ill poke a cloud

They say with every cloud theres a silver lining
I say dem niggaz was lying...
cuz life's a bitch but this bitch been trying
your words was a catalyst your actions my enzymes
infused atomic threats in my brains like big crimes
i did a felony for her and a misdemonor on him
its funny how ppl call themselves friends
when in the end its a six letter word so absurb
to trust another human being as if their tru intentions were never demeaning as if
the world wasnt split in half of two types of people
geniuses and fools geniuses are simply the people who ignore the rules
who color outside the lines with high definition
with crayolas instead of cheap pixalation
I pray when I see the devil's pupils in my eyes
and hear Jesus' tongue in my mind when I cry
the hurt and pain was tonic i ingested every day
and i gave my heart my skin and flesh in every way
so in da backyard i swing and see my greyclouds
they dont go away.

ill poke a cloud...
to see the sky fall
cuz i been through it all
waiting for them to call
ill grab a dream
and float through the sky when i realize why
i cant fly clouds give me the flight that i need
to give me the height that i seek
ill poke a cloud
and shout out loud
where's my silver lining?

i couldnt imagine what a tumstone would say
"never saw a cloud not grey"
not a dream or a sleepless night
never depicted what a useless life life could be
in the end it wasnt you it was me
honestly i cant speak for jealousy or misery
cuz no, my name aint company
wanted that bitch to funk wit me
and a laid back dude that could keep up with me
I cant see it from your perspective cuz it aint mine
and i said it.. yall niggaz aint need the grape vine
it take time
to see what the purpose was for our demise
everything in life happens for a reason
friends loyalty like treason.
and i believed them

wont rest in peace

needing some new inspiration.. some fresh material.. a biblical metaphore of a page too spiritual... where are those souls who inspired life from me those that required death and nothing less than a burrial ground of my words profoundly written on a tombstone so correct, that left respect, that let you inteject your not needed opinion but still, I listened . I licked your thoughts and tasted your tears and imagined what any of it would be worth in distant years. Injesting time in a rhyme that required some need of inspiration provocation and a leathal weapon injected in my veins because my thoughts can not quite contain the value of words webster could provide and I feel like a part of my lyrical soul just died so I rest in peace never resting again until the next time I put down my pen.