Slow Train Comin'

My birthday's in some days; it's like a slow train's comin' up, 
I'm only 41 but life feels longer; what the f*ck?!
This Lupus is some sh!t that kills me slowly; day by day, 
but can't begin to dictate all the many ways I play.

The brash and cunning linguist; low like Lee without a stitch, 
I'll leave real talk in writin 'fore I leave up out this b!tch, 
a novel or this floetry that courses through my veins, 
a strong determination is what coursed me through the flames.

The door through which we got here is the same through which we go, 
we get so busy livin life; my God the train is slow, 
I used to be held captive in a cage that had no doors, 
and pay with loyalty which ain't as much as cash no more.

I feel my slow train coming as I wander down these tracks, 
of life but see I feel as though I've walked 'em down and back, 
this trip may be my last; we'll see what changes come about, 
I hear a whistle deafening; a slow train's comin now.

©2016
The Cunning Linguist