More!

Maybe I’m crazy I swear I know your face… Tried to trace the line of tears you have left upon your face… trace the history your footprints have made…

Background crowd within sin... but who’s to say that there’s a place for that… sat and thought about it… made an assumption on the many tales pass down resolutely… obviously there’s a true breeze to blow away the fame… not the flame I like the feel of the burn… yearning for more…  sore to new height… with distant thoughts of birds at flight preferably dove… symbolizing love… no push no shove… just simple ripples of clouds… heaven extensions… but not to mention… there’s more
There’s more to see… to feel… which becomes real, after a while… smiling does no good… should you understand me? Maybe not but the spiraling c’s and w’s fly free on blue lines… with rhyme screams alliterating alliteration’s allegories… and the simple metaphoric similes… remembered by the other… smothering summer time in your winter syndications… define a nation with no trouble… they want more…

Glorifying gruesome gutter choices personifying black folks will to call each other nigger this that and those but they want more… We wanted more… we wanted to become intelligent… not that flamboyant shit you call southern… upon another I may be wrong but who really knows… I’m northern bound… sound asleep as the sirens wake the sleeping baby… but it wants more…  not to be brought up in a cage built to be broken and stereotypes spoken… choking on what was a freedom of speech… but now there nothing…
More it’s your choice!