Redundant

I feel a gray wave wash over me when I open this page
A sad happiness that I turn to bliss
With my will to resist all this spit and shit that I just don’t miss
I go numb as I see the same old faces and I pray for your time to come
When your writing takes you places So you can thumb
Your nose and make faces at those who had cases
but left no traces
Save for their shadows that linger in the cut
Save for the odd one out who has grown sicker and has had enough
Who lives in your doubt
The one no one will hear about
For he will die the same time you touch the sky
You and your own celebrate while in the dirt his body lies
Those he leaves behind cry as he decays
At the same time you’re getting praise and accolades
From your peers and fellow scribes
Who forget the name of the poet who just by the way died
Yet inside you feel a sense of loss
The proverbial coin that fate will toss
You won and he lost and yet you see him everyday
And pick off the moss from his headstone
At his graveside you come into your own
Trading spiritual prose like two kings on a throne
Finding you feel less alone
Here with his memory as you read him your poems
Your words penetrate through the soil and into his bones
It resonates like two soup cans and a string turned into a phone
Heaven bound they resound like thunder
For a moment you touch through the dirt he’s buried under
I know he would so much like to thank you for this
I know in your heart just how much you miss
So you stand up and wipe your eyes and beckon a smile from your
soul
As you walk away leaving him in this hole
There’s something I think he would want you to know
He would have loved that your effortless flow
Has taken your life into the lights of the show
He gave me a message to give to you bro
Your words are flowers around him that grow.