Smell Of Hard Work

“Look at those Jordans!
Mad dirty!”

“Haha,
They even have holes in them,
They’re cooked!”

…

Voices within my mind tend to manifest through the vocal cords of guilty bystanders.
Demons who frolic in the name of wear and tears involuntarily shown as I master!
My patience…

The kind of patience where I take my insecurities and turn them into strengths.
Using my cadence from every flow I conjure when it’s necessary to step to the plate.
Because,
The kind of bars I dish to your face,
All have a different kick.
They’ll force you to dabble into truths you wouldn’t want to face!
Making one hot in the hell they’re imprisoned in.
If my clothes being “cooked” is all you have to say?
Then watch as I spread my wings after coming to a boil and handle this ‘heat’ I am spitting with!…

Grateful for every hole in my sneakers.
Kids around the world dying for a pair of shoes to go to school,
And all most can do is judge a man working his hardest to deter!
Demons from clawing at my hands and throat yearning to feed on my own vices…

But,
I have my own questions as well.
Are those whom carry gold on their wrists free from their own Well of Emotions?
When they look at me and laugh at my appearance,
Do they go back home and sleep with a smile without needing a reason to show in,
A culture already refusing my disparate existence?
You can only hope so!
Since they’re so confident in judging what they don’t know!
Till…
You see the “Wealthy” commit suicide in boat loads…
Making you ask,
“Where does all this gold go?…”

Who knows.
But,
One thing’s for sure.
No matter what kind of walk in life,
There lies a hidden amount of hurt.
Why pay mind to anything tearing you down at the cost of your Rebirth?
Because,
Sooner or later,
They all start crying for the sins they’ve wrought the second you leave Earth…