Follow me, listen close
I happened to be online, on Facebook, seeming lost
till am taken aback by a freshly written post
you see most people update statuses so that when other folks
read their post, they sound deep, deeper than they're even close
I been guilty of the same,
but virtual reality's a game
so I created a name for the persona I framed
gained supporters, like fans who love the writes I brought up
the thoughts I thought, usually were of books others wrote up
true, there might a fire for what I smoke up
self-introspection is the reason for why I woke up...
I "Love" Writing for exposing all my passion
my fascinations, my place in the congregations of life
Congression, for deeper comprehension
yo, my mind was barren so I employed reforestation
I love writing is like pitching up tent
to circumvent, round-navigate, away from what the world gravitates
to, sober thoughts dilute the drink-and-drunkenness in the plot
place my thinking on its feet where X marks the spot
the four-way, all-way of schools and screwed thinking
the fluid of reality too smooth to stop us sinking
with the heaviness that we carry
false impressions that we marry
my true intentions to study the lessions that forerunning others talli-ed
through,
from Mexico City to Perth and Malibu
am adding color to my old schemes of black and blue
heading to whatever's true; my soul's capital
I love writing for a lack of something more practical
that marks my position of mind while I breaking through
my obstacles,
yeah, acquiring statuses beyond Facebook, and with merit too
Get it?
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