PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Look, don’t get the wrong impression, I’m not trying to be a thug

it’s just when everything seems fucked, writing helps the depression

for others, to live or die is the question,

while for me, death is never mentioned,

it’s hit home time and again, took some family, and it took some friends

and no matter how many prayers you send, the worst comes in the end

it gets you feeling low, cold, and old, looking for something to hold

and pressure makes you fold, only drugs have the power to control

that massive hole in your soul, when it feels everything’s been stole

but then the same old games, fills your life with shame

unbearable pain running rampant in your brain

it feels as though I’ve slowly gone insane

so now from these drugs I try to wane,

I guess nothing will ever be the same.



When we die, where do we go

when we cry, what emotions do we show

tears and sighs, angry feelings only grow

we try and try, bottle it up till we blow

when we die, tell me, where do we go



now every morning when I rise, thank god to be alive

knowing I’ve got angels by my side, everywhere I ride

knowing my number could be called at any time

but it’s no use to hide, for the reaper I’m easy to find

but to these rhymes I design, he’s virtually blind

for half of them I bind within the depths of my mind

where know one can take them, or even try to fake them

and if ever someone does, I just might have to break them

because these are my thoughts, mental wars I’ve fought

insight I’ve sought, tried to catch and finally I’ve caught

this is where I’ve grown but it feels I’m far away from home,

searching for my throne, I’m so afraid to die alone, unknown

so give me a chance, at least a second glance,

hear what I have to say, that’s all that I ask..



When we die, where do we go

when we cry, what emotions do we show

tears and sighs, angry feelings only grow

we try and try, bottle it up till we blow

when we die, tell me, where do we go

where do we go…