The Itis: It Is What It Is
It Is What It Is
Change paradigms with change like a pair of dimes.
Recognize parasites that leave your mind paralyzed.
Pen lines change lives, so much passion in mine.
Press on until our paths intertwine with the divine.
I use prose to prove points I emphasize.
What they don’t understand they despise.
Complicate with hate they generate from past lives.
Desperate times require beautiful minds.
Hold fire until you see the whites of their eyes.
When opportunities arise I rise like sunshine.
I convince skeptics with eclectic composition.
Ambition of mine sends chills up your spine.
Perspiration pours from the pores of inspiration.
Time is jealous so my decisions are patient.
You are so deep,
I fear if I listen to your secrets I will always be here.
I am drawn to your company we are a classic pair.
I knew you’d be back, I feel you there.
Surely you won't mind if I take a nap.
You feel like a boulder on top of my lap.
I sink softly in to abyss.
You lean over and give me a kiss.
They call it justice when it’s just us locked up.
We suffer for suffrage as I approach problematic position.
We rumble with indigestion from greasy indiscretion.
Symptoms specific to a sickness I alleviate with prescription.
We are conquered in separation, divided only in indecision.
I guess it is what it is. Call it the “itis”..
As a matter of fact I’m sick of writing.