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Attention is a hell of a drug!
Especially after grabbing a mic around a crowd so desperate to get drunk and high.
And I grew tired of it…
Watching others surrounding themselves with 1800 bottles while I try to write a hot line?
Has me wired in with!
Who I really am,
Instead of running away from my truths I once couldn’t understand,
Until I got rid of every plan to commit suicide while harboring a talent most will never have,
For a reason…

A pen and pad is what God gave me when I felt like crying,
An escape from the pain I’m still here fighting,
In a glass house full of people who make me feel alone while I seek a pair of arms to lie in.
After being shot down like the monster I was stigmatized as,
I found a microphone and a stage I just couldn’t bypass,
And stood tall in front of anybody who would try to battle my raps,
I spit with every fiber in my body!
Standing ovations everywhere I went,
I let myself get cocky and that’s not me!
Believed every newcomer wouldn’t leave my life till I realized they “got me”…

Only there when I had a poem to rhyme.
Broken every way possible while thrown a handful of change with no one in sight,
For me to lean on as I didn’t know the price,
Of seeking attention from others entertained by the tears in my eyes…
My only choice being that bit of change I added on to by ridding my mind of lies I wouldn’t buy!
Any longer.
Standing stronger as a result of my will to pass the test of time until I’m dead.
Deep within my own waters…

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