BRUTAL

my words history it mystifies the sicker side of sanity a man of thee exchange souls of family a fan of street sweet like street lights competes night parameters a janitor of scientific high and lifted fantasies of cash driven fast liven stash splittin molecules folicals ice cold through mic holds ofpast spittin solitudes of brick written prophecies philosophy a given switchkife persition sick invisioned in its own time phone line mastery a masterpiece linguistic a crop of thee exquisite leaf so vividly positioned In the shadows where the truth collides, My words paint the pain, where the silence hides, History’s a mirror, reflecting the scars, Sicker side of life, trapped behind these bars. Echoes of the streets, where the lost souls dwell, Every verse a confession, every rhyme a spell, Chasing dreams while the nightmares persist, In a world so cold, can you handle the twist? Life's a battlefield, I’m armed with my pen, Spitting raw reality, again and again, From the corners of the block to the depths of my mind, The mystified truth, it’s the light that we find. Voices of the fallen, they whisper through me, In the darkness of the struggle, I’m fighting to be free, Words like bullets, they pierce through the night, Unraveling the stories, igniting the fight.