deepundergroundpoetry.com

.......

My passion died  you can tell
But I have just enough traped inside to combust, and multiply like a nut, im out my mind im a nut cracking its shell, stepping into a realm of stomach acid,  then come back in your bathroom and smell, and that's what death is.
A cycle of rebirth recycling rebox cuz its killed twice if its rehearsed, my cypher could cyphen the life out of you and reimburse
Breathe taking, the type of box that dont get no air play here or air time,
This cancerous generation of bad lines is irritating like crack with little sprinkles of black, and im just playin, damn near about to yawn im just sayin this aint even my final form. Its just a warm up because they think that they cold rhyming sister with mister picture and siccors, while we rhyming blister interior twist her in twister pitch her get a picture of them judges like a picture of liquids with out snappin i listen to the radio like damn this not happening it might be staticing i wish that the old school was back again i miss vibing and listening to somebody who really felt something solid. I cant even get inspired. I feel like i have had idea that went viral but then it went off the grid and i forgot it. Im bored now thats why i stoped writing
Written by G3r0 (TetsuUmi)
Published
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