My Shackles

Thu, 06/11/2015 - 10:18 -- szer111


Salt lake City
3040 East Cruise Way 84109
United States

shackels, chains, and an iron ball force me to remain.

it's self inflicted pain. a pain that has me detained.

i can't escape this dungeon. or any of it's bricks walls.

freedom tries to call. but when i try to climb i fall and then crawl.

it's ironic that the harmony i once loved, now causes this tention.

mention anything having to do with poetry and i lose all other attention.

Some times i start to feel clostaphobic, the ground beneath me starts to collapse

i try to hold myself steady but the space continues to tighten till i relapse

i feel suffocated, can't even breath unless i let some of these pounding thoughts leave.

this is a life filled with grief. when i get any slight relief. it's brief. then i fall again like an autom leaf

i thought that hip hop was an angel. a blessing that would give relaxation but instead it's only a thief.

taking from me all my time of day, making any important part of my life become grim and grey.

so rap demands my intelligent ideas. if i don't obey, then in this dark cold dungeon is where my mind will stay


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