Write Story
Posted: Fri Aug 14, 2009 2:38 pm
The poet, Formally knew the lost skill.
Was taught well but the block forced his thoughts to hold still.
With an urge to come graphic, Pretending the paper was canvas.
Fed up with it he's had it, Concepts were gone he couldn't stand it.
He tossed the scripts out the window, Fed 'em to mother nature.
Covered in dirt, He burried his work under the earth like an undertaker.
It hurt him, This art form was the second love.
He lost his way and tossed away the tool he needed to step it up.
It became harder, He struggled to write a line.
Liked to box but never thought he'd fight to rhyme.
Ironic, He brainstormed on all the options.
Trying to figure out where the fuck are all the toxins.
How could his talent just disappear, Without some kind of message?
Is it, Something you see, Something you touch? Where's the fine lesson?
Technically he learned nothing, Cept he's all empty.
Tank ran out, He layed down, Rather take the downfall steady.
Was it a dream? Had reailty turned to nightmare.
So he turned to death and had his words express how life faired.
Wrote for miles with one style, Never switched it.
Fell off, Never, Just needed to try something different.
Was taught well but the block forced his thoughts to hold still.
With an urge to come graphic, Pretending the paper was canvas.
Fed up with it he's had it, Concepts were gone he couldn't stand it.
He tossed the scripts out the window, Fed 'em to mother nature.
Covered in dirt, He burried his work under the earth like an undertaker.
It hurt him, This art form was the second love.
He lost his way and tossed away the tool he needed to step it up.
It became harder, He struggled to write a line.
Liked to box but never thought he'd fight to rhyme.
Ironic, He brainstormed on all the options.
Trying to figure out where the fuck are all the toxins.
How could his talent just disappear, Without some kind of message?
Is it, Something you see, Something you touch? Where's the fine lesson?
Technically he learned nothing, Cept he's all empty.
Tank ran out, He layed down, Rather take the downfall steady.
Was it a dream? Had reailty turned to nightmare.
So he turned to death and had his words express how life faired.
Wrote for miles with one style, Never switched it.
Fell off, Never, Just needed to try something different.