My best friends a pen that i put in forced seclusion,
We play fight and it bleeds out from its contusion,
Creates shapes and lines that leads to an abbrutive fusion,
combined shapes become words that make intrusions,
to a mind state that over rates those that pass delusion,
im not crazy i was just born lyrically confusin,
Makin verses wit my buddy while
I squeeze..... Extrusion,
Why is the world weird..complex and sentimental,
too many low lifes while imflyin..continental,
am i the only real one cuz the worlds seems sorta mental,
im not crazy the world needs guidance like parental,
ppl live 2 lives in a day eachone of ems a rental,
the times im feelin down its pen and notebook to the rescue,
i dont need a doctor im perfectly stable,
Perfectly able, walk witout cables, To turn the tables,
Makin fables, seem realistic while my thoughts enable,
well my pens fadin away so i guess its time to say goodbye,
But Y am i tearin?..oh yea cuz real men cry,
B original dont b seen the same from the worlds eye,
Idk if u can tell but im an outkast...damn!..it died.
[ Post made via Mobile Device ]
