Sometimes, You just miss the time when, You were loved by those you love. But, Does it even matter when you could die this very moment, As, No one will notice? How can anyone observe what they deem unworthy of existence on a plane where, All you do is get high, Clouded by memories keeping you under hypnosis…
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"If you don't write your own life story, somebody else is going to write it for you..."
Most of us were born in the midst of poverty and mental warfare. A viscious cycle of torment we witness from the first moments of inception. Melodic, just like many others, crawled out of an endless, burning Hell of the South Bronx while nurtured by its beloved hell hounds.
Still, what came out of such dysfunction in a family of four made by two parents who put their love on hold till this day, was a shy, quiet kid who adored Dragon Ball Z and all of what Hip Hop had to offer. So, through each step of the way, God laid certain obstacles leading his life towards a purple pen and a journal he would never let go as long as he breathes.
But, because of a broken home where dreams quickly deformed into horrid nightmares, all his heart seeks is to write his own life story. And, God-willing, raise a family of his own, spreading love that was never seen within the tallest Glass House one can come across...
View all posts by m3l0dicverse
September 25, 2021
addiction, alone, clouded, faith, god, hope, jesus, lonely, poems, Poetry, smoke, weed
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