The only thing that seems

to hold me back at times

is syntax in my sentences,

and error in my rhymes

I fear the judging eyes of others

the rhidicule of mothers

the cloudy void surrounds and smothers

what I really want to show my brothers

the true me, truebueno

who got the compettition 10-0

who'd rock a mic' without a fight

if he could get up with the get go

or maybe just could let go

the fears of my peers dissappear with an elbow

'cross the face of all my problems that I don't address with logic

taking brutal force too chronic like there's not an on and off switch

and I'd shake my head, clear my mind,

step outside and then I'd find the

rhidicule from which I hide

was nowhere else but deep inside

a fusion of the insecure

boy who met with demons times before

and never realized that judging eyes

were nothing but pollution

confusions, nothing more than

Illusions.