4 (Poem)

4: This is just another throwback poem that was never released. View my previous post until my next post. Follow me on all social media platforms. Follow this blog for more and enjoy this poem.

I once heard that you have to work to get through a door

I change the game and built my own door

Screw by screw, hinge by hinge but the door just wouldn’t open

Working each day just to feel golden

Because my dreams was once stolen

Still trying to fly high like a falcon

 

Doing this with only my involvement

I looked everywhere for reinforcement

It just wasn’t that important

To others this is my hobby

They left me in the lobby

 

But it was just my technique being sloppy

I was been tossed around like a puc in hockey

The dream was starting to look foggy

Now I can see through it like glass

 

It’s not in my grasp

But it’s so close that I can taste it

Take it and paste it

Soon I can put it on my checklist

So that I know that it exist

 

Lately I been fighting like an activist

On a daily I got to worry about 4

Four people that I want to stick with a fork

Just because they didn’t give support

My dreams has been restricted like a Muslim eating pork

 

I became bored

Bored with talking about my record

Dropping to their level

Has made me look like the devil

I been leaving spots here and there like freckles

 

My mind is twisted up like a pretzel

Part of me wants to settle

The other half wants to tremble

I been used so much I feel like a rental

I been speaking from the heart but others only hear the instrumental

 

I have felt sentimental 

But I brushed it all off

I been feeling soft

So I been telling people adios

I been in a different zone

I have been told to postpone

 

But looking at Orlando 

It got me thinking how the fuck I know I’m going to make it till tomorrow

Sorry for the language

But this is how I manage

I go on a rampage

 

Just so people can hear my message

The reason for my title being 4

It might be because that’s my score 

Or that’s the amount of feet I am from the door

 

It could be the amount of feet I’m in the trapdoor

Or maybe I wrote 4 books and about to grab them off the floor

I’m ready to explore

4

 

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