I use to think the world, revolved around me, and that my life, was a big party, I never questioned, my destiny, was this the way, I was supposed to be? I fell into a lapse, of unconciousness, Where the street life, gave me the test, until it laid my soul, down to rest. My earnest best, of unresolved aggression, Couldnt see, my own reflection, That I never became a man, when life approached me, that I had I cried and ran. Couldnt stand, the man who looked like me, and resorted to compassionless, butchery. . . My misery, consumed me whole, until it buried, my withered soul. I live in shadows, of self-inflicted strife, This is what I live, I live the thug life. Where bullets reign, to fulfill my dreams, where fast money and gold, have made me king, But to sleep with one eye open, I live without rest, has removed my heart, from my chest. This is my, self inflicted strife, I live what you call, A thug's life, Where I die too soon, With no one to trust, My fate led me, to the back of a truck, with my eyes taped open, I scream of torture, too late to feel sad, as I leave this world, with my body in a bag, I part in disgrace,, by the hands of a young man, Who asserts to take my place. . . yet fails to see, the irony, that he will go much like me. . . This I have lived, is my self-inflicted strife, I lived what you may call, A thug's life. Where you die soon, with blood on your hands, a thug's life, and not a man's.
Reason for writing:
dedicated to violent young men of this generation who fail to see the irony of their fate.
Birth sign: Scorpio
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