In search of fame, at sanity’s cost
You a household name, but all privacy lost
You make a mistake, they hang you up on a cross
All of a sudden they forgot who you are
They forgot about all the times you hustled and fall
Please show me a king thats never suffered a loss
Or show me a man that never suffered a scar
And I’ll show you a man thats never given his all
I’ll show you man thats never given his heart
If im becoming a monster, it’s all ya fault
You can’t be a gentleman when you swimming with sharks
Shit, when you wanna be Superman, who gonna be Clark Kent
Pour out my heart until I wind up heartless
Tryna become a father without having a father
They hate when you ride then celebrate when you fall
But throughout it all, I just ball……….
Aborted before it even got the chance to be a mission
A televangelist in a cheap suit
With car salesman hair
Shit – anything
Grow fingers or eyes or ass
Like her mama
Is it possible that omnipotent God who sees and knows everything
Destined this thing
To be nothing?
Cellular clumps of shortsighted aspiration
Discarded like bad poems and used condoms
A convenient sludge labeled medical waste
after death precedes birth and leaves no after taste
More than aborted life
This is Aborted destiny….
Heartless fate and cruel manipulation of medical intelligence
We’re so advanced that we regress to this
And me and the other life poets we sit
There can’t be other galaxies?
And if aliens exist
Do they slaughter their children like this?
Before they even begin to develop the eyes that might have perceived the world?
Do they Corral the old?
Starve the hungry?
And call themselves civilized?
And if so, why do we call them aliens
And not reflections?
Maybe the sun is a mirror
Spitting back realities so harsh
That it blinds anyone
Who stares directly in its direction?
And maybe stars are prayers sprouting out of the deepest darkness
Which had to go somewhere
And so the sky was the most likely candidate
Surely your ears can handle it
If our stomachs can digest
Life becoming nothing like this
I mean, its just trash
Aborted before it ever became a mission
A video girl who shakes ass
Don’t sweat me, cause Like labor pains and afterbirth
This poem too shall pass
And you won’t have to name it
Claim it, feed it or maintain it
It will abort itself in approximately six seconds
Because foreign words and aliens thoughts rarely last
I mean, it’s just trash…