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Stuck
In this world full of vultures
It don’t pay to be the grass
Snakes always slither,
Sneakiness surpass, all elements,
For every season I pass,
I merge with the dirt again,
Hurtful sins, bloom and win,
In all types of weather,
No matter the measure,
They all out for pleasure,
On top’s the need for cheddar,
Instead of trying to better,
They roll with the flow,
No sense of direction, Yet always on the go,
Life becomes meaningless to those,
Who can't obtain it with riches,
Girls become hoes,
The weak transform to snitches,
Can't forget about the bitches,
Sending ill wishes for those,
Who make cake form what
You sniff up your nose,
They pass in a cipher,
What mothers are strung out on,
A kilo or a pound of…???
Is apart of this vicious cycle,
In spite do, What fulfills for the moment,
Knowing any minute you’ll blow it,
But for the time it’s a show with,
Leaders and followers, dreams equal dollars, homes without fathers,
For those with a conscience,
Is the only ones it bothers,
Only to become desensitized and swallowed up,
By life without presence,
Wrongs without consequences,
Values replaced by deadly weapons
Can’t measure when enough is enough,
Not that vulture or snake but like the grass
I’m stuck
