never feeling like I was chosen I was broken tears and blood soaking feeling fucked and hopeless my solution was the dope and all the using due to abuse the system introduced losing my focus losing my gift I noticed working for tips and coping but whatever I did I never went back to smoking even though I was going thru shit the future was open and lately I been probing at the possibilities my god is killing me. I close my eyes but feel no sleep. i ain't looking for sympathy. it's just thoughts for my written symphonies even though i spit with ease like a pit with teeth locked on a kid release haters in my grip gritting my teeth I'd rather RIP em to pieces give em to jesus flipping my thesis yall could get the completion but understanding sicll get you sea sick thoughts spinning in me quicker then tornadoes or torpedoes made for tuxedo in a box we close hoping these old pieces dont disappear like weed smoke.