put your work in

my shadow has broke it's shackles
my drunken babble tackled by my x wife's cackle
i will not be rattled
i cannot be shaken
maybe stirred
vision blurred by verbs and continuous curse words
she decorates her arms with funeral flowers
oh i cannot wait for that day
a truthful shower
the usual cowards call the poetry rap gay
while they dap and shoulder tap
over another over said over used phrase
i navigate the maze
and brush the corny out of my face
while people with nothing to say
achieve fame with only a flat brim fitted and leased chain
the sad kid's deep brain shitted on everybody who seems the same
deep gaze from the creep's face
utter lack of compassion
for these other faggots
caught in traction within the wordly action
they lack passion
and apparently creativity is being rationed
hip hop evolved to shit hop
somebody bring back the sick hop
make the shit stop
i'm tired of using 16 dollar cds' for toilet paper