Pain is what i know
never was i the one to paint pretty pictures everything i depicted
was explicit and demented
Grife is what i see
neighbors and friends going through the same strains i struggle with to maintain constantly battling the double edge sword of ghetto life
Depression is where i live
caught like a roach in a motel with tales inside my head that will never be heard unable to express my feelings cause everyone around me is distressed; so it festers inside marinating like a stew of confussion and dispair
My soul dwells in sorrow
exposed to toxic gases poluted oxygen inhaled by my herbal conjested lungs; environmental blues mentally abuse my views; so i reside in the concaves of my hidden pride; for life i remain in a place where the forecast is continuious Blak Acid Rain