Quils & Thrills

At times,
I live a little backwards,
With evil intentions over pain lashed against my back,
Revenge,
Or vengeance…

I’ve questioned my worth a plethora of times,
Shouting,
“Am I worthy?”
Rather than claiming,
“I am…”

But,
Like a nerd standing in the middle of Baywatch,
I can’t hassle with white girls,
Being that I’m now under rocks…
I rather pop,
On candy rappers and stick my foot where it doesn’t belong…

Because I’ve had it,
With my mind circled by static,
Anytime I’m ill…

My quil,
Writes thrills.
Still,
Bones brittle,
Stoic.
Pistols gripped,
Single bullet in a chamber,
Finger resting in the middle while I’m praying at the pulpit?

*Shots fire…*