11900
My diary with the Dazed Peach,
My community prejudice for my urban meanings,
Cause you are alike I contemplate having,
Hesitant to pull the trigger of grabbing,
Sparring the flavor at the tip of my tongue,
Kindness craving from all the buzz,
The agility to lift the inner circle that I’m bald,
The patience to stand with those whom I’ve foiled,
If the bald was close to me,
Its not now that I see,
But way back when did that happen,
Lifting up from the darkness of massacres,
Slow in nature but equal in farms,
Rinsed to cure, flipped to charm.
