The Year of Death
The year of death suicidal? Not likely
The fear of meth homicidal? Yeah, might be.
Unending sadness too deep for you to comprehend
Impending blackness, oh please this stuff has got to end
An age old enemy could be the end of me
From which I’d tend to flee but I can’t cause it’s within me
What do you do, do you run do you stand?
In a fight against you, tell me how do you plan?
To win is to lose, call it done but I can’t
It’s me that I bruise when I fight with this man
Alone in this battle no friends there aint no backup
Like felonious shadows dope fiends with never stack up
So go back to your family the only ones that really love you
But even that can be a fantasy they’ve all become to weary of you
Calm down this thing has become way to much a depressant
I need to stop now and take a break for just a second
If you don’t know where I goin you don’t get what I’m sayin
What’s the point of this poem? Let me put it this way then
Some times you make decisions that it’s cool to do wrong
But when you’re messing with addictions it’s a rule to be strong
I hope you can take it, cause I know that I can’t
Now homey don’t fake it, you’re no better than I am
Don’t go that route and end up living with my fate
Be all shot out sittin up in prison at the age of thirty eight
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