Here's a new topic for y'all to ponder about...
he's feeling weak at the cost of tryin to get a meaning across
but everytime he puts his pen to a pad, it seems that he's lost
and its like its absurd, cuz although he's devoted his time
he cant get his emotions to rhyme, or describe it in words
he spends hours upon hours putting words in a section
just to throw them away because of his search for perfection
he knows the effects, yet he wants to be known as the best
so he takes criticism to heart, like theres a hole in his chest
cuz he's concerned of what everyone else is bound to think
so he thinks about these things and writes til he's out of ink...
then throws the paper away... and goes to get another pen
and then once again he thinks of ways of makin it great
never takin a break from writin; then he's scrappin another
its like his train of thought doesnt even have a conductor..
or his thinkin cap just doesnt fit, and he's had enough of it...
but he keeps on writing, because the man just loves to spit
alas papers are still bein torn and ripped from his folder
he's a starvin artisist eatin away at the chip on his shoulder
the kids a serious writer who wont choose to stop til later
he's belemic trying to throw up his food for thought on paper
attempts fail over and over again to say what he wants to say
its not the same on some other days when shit flows from the pen
he stays copin but then... its over, but the kid is in sorrow.
cuz he needed some sleep, so he'll have to finish tomorrow.
Feedback is appreciated...
P.E.A.C.E.
