This is w hat happens when you consume a cocktail of self-doubt and eat cake iced with “try hard” frosting…………………..ENJOY!
My emotions are my muse
And……..they are a muse that I often abuse
When I can’t find inspiration from other stations.
They are center stage
And I’m using them to engage with you
To make whatever story I’m trying to tell you…..amusing,
Which sometimes ends up being confusing
And I feel like I’m losing you as an audience
By failing to develop a stimulating cadence.
Ok, I probably don’t know what I’m saying right now
Bloody fantastic, I sound like a rambling fretter.
Is that even a word?
Is this even a piece?
NO, I call it a flowy and showy mess
And I’m pressed because now I’m exuding vulnerability
A side of me that I don’t want the world to see
Because to most that’s embarrassing
And that’s not good
In this hood
We call the world,
Boys and Girls.
When my feelings implode.
Ok, lemme stop being an abstract hot mess,
But you get the point, right?
Emotions help me write, alright?
And I’m fighting the fact that at this point I can’t rhyme
And if this was an actual song
It would be out of time.
This is just something that may have a ring to it
Depending on the way you slant it.
Now don’t get too carried away or enchanted…….
Have fun decoding it kids!
Hey! Don’t roll your eyes or a snicker at me
I needed to come up with a dramatic ending to complete this stream of consciousness…..
I guess that was it.
OK, I’ll stop being pretentious.