'money'
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I can relate to the frost on the window
Not the frost that lies on the outside, but more on the inside
It crawls like a spider or whispers of a lie
More importantly, it is less trapped than I
It was hard for her husband and child to believe what she had done.She ran off with a sugar daddy and abandoned her husband and son.She did her husband wrong but I believe what she did to her son was worse.
Do you remember me?
Do you remember the way you pulled at my hair?
Bit my shoulders
Thighs
Legs
The way you hit me
Leaving marks of yourself over me
The way you flung money on my face
Surf the stars
Travel far
Lost luxury cars
rolls royce taste
Pearl's wear they lay
Compliment a millionaire's smile
Fur coats
For so many years I was a boy
Content to play
But alas when I got my first job
Suddenly I had bills to pay
First there was the rent
Packed in an ancient Boston apartment it was much too high
Moon-kissed windows,
projecting the oblivious melancholic sight
of those who shine bright, and
time-blessed gravity defyers
dancing to a rhythm of lust,
like blooming roses in the sun.
Sosa love making money
Same way bees love honey
Can't take it from me
You gone make me extra hungry
In my stomach it grumbles
Can't get caught lacking
This not football, no fumbles
What comes around the cycle repeats around itself,
Escalation of time preceded by the focus of oneself,
Enough it has, enough it was, and enough it'll never be.
Why though ?
America,
The Beautiful?
Home of the enslaved,
Where those who are brave,
Are said to have no brain,
Where freedom of speech is limited,
Land of the Free,
People sprout in the streets.
But what I see,
Is injustice everywhere.
The news channels are warped,
As they are racists and selective.
They play what they want,
From January to February
I hit a new low in life
Everything was bothering me
All I thought about was the cold blade of a knife
From March to May
I drink, I drone,
My future unknown.
Coffee helps with the moan,
And early morning foam.
To college I’ve shown,
Myself a new home,
Though to graduate alone,
Brings itself a sad tone.
Here I sit,
My first job...
Application on the table next to me.
I fill it out,
Not sure what hours I want to work,
Or what date I'll be available,
Or even if I'll get an interview.
All you need is love,
But love for what?
Is it a love for money?
For power?
For food?
For another person?
But none of these will help you survive
All you need is food.
