Lost

I use to always smoke weed constantly.
Off one of Himrod st deserted blocks look in the cellar.
Basement apartment off the wages I earn accordingly.
For this ex-incarcerated fella.

Life's a treasure but this life can't bare the weather.
Nor the struggle that keeps me fed up.
The pressures no better than a beretta's point blank hollow tip-
Piecing my fucking sweater.

I'm tired of living stressed out suicidal driving.
It's now or never though the sin be unforgiving.
Attempted the murder however,tragedy struck;I lost face...
Then the demons rushed.
Using my frustration against me to feed their lust.

Shedding tears losing my fucking sanity.
Blurry vision images of hated families.
Full of misery drowning in all my sorrows.
It's a mystery if I die will you cry for me tomorrow.
From all the broken promises of love you failed to follow.
I'm in these streets alone condemned a shell that's fucking hollow

Cir.1999