Why do I always feel like I’m facing my sins?
Why does it seem like all ways at "Begins"?
Why can I never feel content to have a person there beside me?
Why does my father ask me repeatedly why I don't let him guide me?
Why is anything one ever does simply not enough to let the Universe feed them?
Why does life seem so perversely and converselyyet so tersely permanently uneven and
determined to defeat us?
My mind is friend and I'm sorry that I lied but I'm not always yours to keep.
As it is I'm locked away in constant battle with the mental complications but the fools outside
demonstrant of the rattle in their hearts too, pushing, shoving to extinction. The world is on fire little liar
and so are my pieces that belong to you.
Why does it matter if the world is made of matter?
When all my heart seems to do is bloody shatter?
Why is that rap world so important?
Who cares if you're purple or fucking orange?
Why treat me like the color of my skin stands as a sin in a former life?
Why act like everything I do
is a crime against you?
Why add to all the bloody strife?
Why not find you a wife?
Why not live in the 'burbs?
Why not get you a job?
Why not end all the strife,
they'll always bring a sharp knife
to your dreams
without grips or a plea
from anyone or anything to matter more than
This poem though is fallacy
because my fucking phallacy
won’t stretch in your past and, see,
I'm not your past,
I'm a man a man who won't last;
when he looks at you all he sees is glass.
There's a point til which I’ll all amass
everything on which you harrass
and brush you just aside.
Now won't you just sit there and abide
as my Universe quietly subsides
swiftly subsisting on memories and stories
of a woman, life, peace and plentiful fads
same as my angry dad
but this poem must sound fucking mad.
Complaining through and through
I hope I still mean something to you.
This will reach a few
but to those to whom do be advised.
are not examinations
of entirely full people or events
and once brought me close to my demise
and not to alarmorize
but this is glamorized
dramaticized and intensified
for your entertainments sake.
And in its wake
I hope you'll realize
there's more to me than give and take.
I am not fucking sad
I'm weakened and sore
because I know there's more
porque la vida tiene mas color
que una maldita impostor
y con esto sierro la 'door'.
-- Translation of the last three lines:
because life has more color
that a damn (female) impostor
and with this I close the door.