A poet at worst..
My scribes describe this worlds work.
Tears telling years of un-fed thirst.
What hurts..
Don’t ask, its probably not pleasant,
cause gunshots taught my block most of its lessons.
From Ghetto landscapes
you cant escape
this Government rape.
Its right behind you,
On the side, in front…. but this light might blind you.
That’s why i stay underground, Cause the Surface is to shallow.
Our 1 escape came in 4 forms,
Which lead me 2 believe we had 3 more.
But no, just Hip-Hop and its elements of 4.
A spray painted break-dancing MC named DJ captured my heart,
turned me into a poet right from the start.
Now half my hero’s lie dead in a hearse.
But they were just like me….
A poet at worst.
J.S.
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