lyrical linguistics

talking smack but not taking shit

I’m fist bumping etiquette

and shaking the hand of those who quit

the cracks in my face start to raise a fine question

I’m cool with what’s underneath but my visage is damned and

simply too much for the ones I love to see

I’m fractured and broken and so much more than my enemies

destined for failure but failure’s no cake walk

forsake all my notions of what is a man

I’m split down the middle and seekings what’s simple

love is no great riddle but I’m tongue twisted and fiddling

sprint to the finish line I’m never fine but I’m making progress

faking my calm and taking what’s drawn from me

used and abused and manipulated to I’m still a man

but I’m more than that too

my hues are overdue for an overhaul

red and black colors replaced pink and blue

so merge me with everything find middle ground in me

I can’t quite become what’s me if no one can see me

taste on my tongue recognizing what’s wrong

I require more options than what’s given all along

alone with my thoughts taking time to scheme and plot

consuming every concept and shitting out middle ground

and look at the person I’ve found

the mask is shifting and drifting down

pushing boundaries and being at ease with being  me now

the thing that I was all along is between your bounds


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