my thoughts

It seems like every time I go and try and pick up the mic,
The feeling of this poem I compose bring on depression,
I speak about the things that really affect my life,
like how I'm great at articulating rather than composing what this world brew,
or brew what this world compose changing thoughts of many,
I compose about how I the world,
I compose about how what was once new seem so old,
I compose about all these mumbling rappers, poets, false priest, bastards and tell them to die,
because I get so angry that they don't even think when they write nor say,
but come to think of it, when it comes to thinkin', guess I think too much,
I like to act like I'm the best tool the creator us to help others,
but who am I convincing? I like to keep my confidence high,
but I lie to myself every time that I say that I'm fine,
because deep inside I'm scared to write about what's in my mind,
all these sensitive topics are bottled really tight,
and I can't help but sip, cause takin' a sip brings my demons bay,
I can't compose about the things that are causing pain,
it leaves a stain when I put 'em on the paper they don't ever leave, less come to the real world,
why a Sum of so-called friends shoot down my art,
As if I'm sick or something deeply wrong with me,
cant picture support from a friend, family, or lover,
Ex-lover
thought it was expressing oneself would be so hard,
It's like they stay dormant until I express myself with some type approvel,
then this becomes the main source of my torment,
I cannot endure this,
It aches to my core,
and it's horse crap,
Damn it i cursed,
those of the high rather those who fellow the highest of high gone be pissed,
Yet all I wanna do is just ignore it,
But I can't,
cause y'all don't understand,
the type of mindset that it puts me in,
when you ask me for my opinion,
Yet cut me off never really letting me speak,
Maybe its cause my thoughts and ideas are just so wrong,
I have, to reach back, to a part of my brain that is black,
Yea thats where i place thoughts and feeling,
I cannot escape it,
I can barely take it,
I face all this pain,
that my heart is taking,
it's aching every time i just think of it,
these scars are speaking to me
No one even knows about this crutch that I have,
that's why my discography don't have any poems that are happy,
because every time I go and try and make one,
depression awakens and takes over letting this beast come out of me,
and it eats away at my soul,
so many stories that went untold,
cause I'm not man enough to control my emotions,
so I bury them all down below,
I can't speak about the things that are buried deep,
So deep you could say they lay in the abyss
I can't speak about the time that I lost hope for life from the abuse and torment and wanted to,
To just fuckin die
I can't speak about the nights that I felt as if a bag over my head suffocating,
Just before I blacked out, somehow pull through like this creator got some great plan for me.
Unable to talk about losing my grandma, I prayed to God but now I am lost,
cause she the only one ever really believed in me and let me express myself,
I often think, is she proud of me?
She never even knew about this poetry or my love for computer tech.
She never even made it to the stage,
never knew about I brought in beautiful kids to this world,
hell, she ain't even know about my desire to try and never give up,
people say life a book of chapters,
but they don't know that all my chapters are of pain,
everyone contains some form of great pain,
I would trade it all away to write a new chapter,
Been told I'll never make it in this game of life and I'm a fool,
maybe one day I get some rest,
but until then I got some more people to impress,
gotta put the fake smile on, that fake voice,
gotta fake everything just so people pay coin,
Saying that someone fake need to be smack,
so I'm smacking myself cause I'm the fakest of them all,
Doctor say I got dissociative identity disorder,
 Eccentric Behavior,
 Paranoia,
 Self-Image Changes,
 Atypical Social Disposition,
 Change in Sexual Habits,
 Self Medication,
 Dangerous Behavior,
 Altered Sleeping Habits,
 Physical Symptoms,
I don't even know how to be real,
hell, I don't even know who the real me is.
maybe when I can finally be still,
the fake me will cease to exist, and the real me will live,
Feeling like damaged goods brought into this world,