There is a lot of craziness going on in my head,
Itís a mad fad Iíve had for everything Iíve said,
Iíll spill some ink in sync to keep my emotions in check,
But I think sometimes I stink at it I sink my pen right into my neck.
So I have at it,
I take a stab at it,
I spit a sick slick flow to show everybody I know how to bleed it well,
I let the words pour like swords gore in war
when the truth can be an inconvenient hell.
Poetry is my therapy because Iím not paying for psychiatry,
Shit is expensive, so I rather write pensively sitting underneath a tree,
I let my demons out for little bit so that I wonít lose it,
Or else sanity will mix with vanity I may not know how to choose it.
The duality in me is an abnormality I try not to fear when it appears,
Personalities take turns to reign my brain split by hemispheres,
So while one verse may be worse than the first when the last was the reverse,
Iíd say give us a chance to work through this terse blessed curse.