They say my poems are too drastic, with all things considered with the sh*t a ni**a littered I think their fantastic, be that as it may, this worlds harshest of it's harshness is all I convey, I write all I survey, a fairytale, I guess is what they want me to portray, but this is just dreary tale, without a happy ending, this world is due for mending, cant get done if we pretending, some say that I am average, but *** a ni**a status, it's madness, in the minds of men, my gift far exceeds my talent I am a savage, with this pen, come step into the wolfs den, writing is my habit, it is my drug I am it's addict, I paint this world in the colors thats been giving to me, this world ben turned me cold and these frigid tempertures is all that I see, my reality, there is no other formality, I leap tall buildings at one bound I am superman with these words, life has delt me a hand but I still stand with these words, I only give you back what I observe on edge but still unnerved, I am on this paper like the front page news, dont sleep on me if you snooze you will lose, my thoughts are frieghtening, the truth always so their so enlightening, you will always get the real me, I write so much I try hard not to conceal me, if I dont let out whats within this here will kill me, I only hope you feel me, these words they over flow in my mind like a tub running over flooding, my duality is buding, cant rest until I write most nights this gift it put up a hellava fight I truly believe I live in darkness and I am haunted by light, these words they beckon me , these words are becoming a force they wrecking me, must be something that I have to state , something that uplifts this weight, something telling me I am doing great, something chasing saying dont be late, these words will one day seal my fate, a gift it leaves some in awe, a curse it leaves my life ajar,