Originally Posted by bk-barbie
I could blaze all the weed that I think I need, but it will never set me free.
Only hinder me, and damage the versatility of my mouthpiece.
See I could mourn on and on, but it will never sharpen my metaphorical form, only dull it a little bit more.
It's the loss of braincells result of my substance war.
Of course, I'm trying to move on.
But shit ain't that easy, imagine waking up to sunshine, while inside you're freezing.
Thinking about the next twelve hours and suddenly you're feinding.
Needing releasing, seeking anything other than reality - reaching for appeasing.
I ran into an obstacle, with a nametag that reads 'fear'.
And it's clear, I'm afraid of those that stay distant, afraid of those that get near.
See the black cloak around my shoulders?
That means STEER CLEAR.
In one instant I could look you in the eyes and tell you:
The End Is Here.
Just droppin some realness