Please read with a grain of salt. Because the truth behind me, is that I am made of many faults. This is a poem which cannot be read, but has as much weight as the mayonnaise on your bread. I can rhyme all day long, but I can't even get the fertilizer to work right on my lawn. How the hell was I trusted with a baby, when I'm just a young adult;maybe. I've tried real hard, and caught the end....Only to meet my demise telling a friend. I refuse to trust you, even when you earn it. I cannot explain easy it is for you to burn in. What I am talking about is my self esteem, lower than a panda, eating bamboo leaves.
My baby died, I made it happen. I could schedual a whole new life, but I'd have to get out of this wrapper. I'm stuck in a rut, the one they call hopelessness. I'll find my way out, when the yellow brick road turns blue. Until that time, I'll be waiting for the cue.
When the door opens back up, I'll send in my troops. God I hope they show up with their boots.
This poem is over, I'm all done rappin'. Hopefully the story you got was one that left you laughin'.
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