Throwing Rockz At A Glass House

What’s the point in building a house where destruction lies?
I sleep in the middle of debree.
The minute I step foot on ground,
Glass cuts,
I scream.
Winds I breathe,
Life isn’t as sweet,
As once thought when glass walls shatter…

I’m just trying to get up out my mind…
I’m trying to get up out my mind,
And feel what is to be cool,
Calm and collected,
With a heart broken,
From the moment,
My eyes awoke in the face of neglect,
How can I reach my center?

Most of my time spent,
Is looking down at a table,
Observing what connects best within the mess,
To be able to stand stable.
Can’t rely on canes to have my back forever,
When putting together a clear picture.
Either 20 .20’s are seen pointed at temples,
Or 40 40oz’s,
In the name of victor…

What do you do when killing yourself is clearer in your mind,
And success is more on the vague side of things?
Blood is the image,
While others grin in false innocence.
Shouting inside,
“Good Riddens!”

Are you at all curious of what flows in those suicidal?
I was and still am,
Ever since I was left constricted,
In the hands of worthlessness…
By friends,

It’s all I ever wanted,
A family.
When push comes to shove,
I drink water more than licking my own blood.
Although it runs through me,
It doesn’t make me feel fulfilled…

I get dispirited,
When I open my fridge and it see it empty of the liquor I was drinking.
If I’m not faded under false pretenses of confidence,
I’m oozing out words from past verbal attacks,
I’m now spitting out mercilessly…

Dealing with adversity,
Hurting me,
Certainly has me on edge,
On a cliff like claire hux every single night he made the pussy wet,
Dreading every single moment God keeps me in motion.
I’m not folding under pressure!
Fuck sweating anybody when I’m working out these bars,
Gripping steel tight.
Funny how I write a line while you’re at a bar in line,
Trying to get right.
It’s only right!
I hit your fruity ass with a punchline!
Knock you on your drunk ass,
As I run pass,
Limits you will never surpass…

My nephew cries more than he’s happy,
I’m broke in every sense.
Problem is I lose a quarter from my pockets,
Spending time with him,
Costing hunger and progress.
It’s hard for me to digest,
That I can’t afford to even feed him love money can’t buy him
I cant be by him when I’m writing,
Fighting with demons,
Seeping through my pores taking the form of Jesus,
When I’m looking for freedom!
In a heaven he allegedly guaranteed us!
If I made up for my wrong-doings…
Maybe that’s why evil seems to live better in a backwords world…

I confess,
Throwing rocks,
I possess,
Against the house I tried to build while I assess,
These lines supressed,
Inside my chest,
Unloading rounds any chance I get,
To leave a fucking mess my nephew can see….
In hopes he becomes a much better man than me…

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