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Honor
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Hostile Is Good I'm jealous and I'm hungry that's why my mother disowned me.
My man didn't really love all he wanted was to bone me.
I'm living in a world that can be so lonely.
I turned the cell off, i don't want nobody to phone me.
Now I'm looking down the barrel of this thing in my hand and it's just me.
Why should I stay here when I have nobody that trust me.
I try to keep friends but those bithches disgust me.
I hear something pounding and you know what it's just me.
Somebody asked me why I wrote this letter.
"One day it's gone get much better, just get your shit together"
Why can't they see that it's me that's wanting?
It's me that's haunting a world that's not my own.
Everyday I try to keep from dying, my father keeps on sighing as he bails me out again.
When pen and paper are your only friends, your heart crys again as your face holds a grin.
I hold my pillow tight as i soak it at night, and I pray for the right to be me.
That's what i'm talking about
a truly depressive piece
that's why it is real
it's funny how sometimes
it seems like authenticity
can only
be found in darkness and pain...