Maturing is realizing it’s you against the world.
Can’t even trust yo man or girl.
Which friend stays when you hit a dead end?
Which one kills you when you sleep again?
Trust is no longer a requirement.
Listen to me cause I’m in need of a dire vent.
Feels like there is eyes all on me.
What’s the key of being free?
How do I stand out the masses?
How do I keep from inhaling toxic gases?
When I got bad influence all around me.
They want me to join, just let me be.

Maturing is realizing it’s you against me.
An external competition.
A constant generational repetition.
So why am I giving you advice?
Why not let you gamble the dice.
Why not let you die?
What’s stopping me from telling a lie?
You need to grow up, cause the world does.
It does what it wants cause,
Cause the world don’t care for you.
Trust me it’s true.

Maturing is realizing is it’s me against me.
I don’t love my poems,
Cause I know I can do better, just show em’
Some emotion they didn’t know they needed.
And when they come back beated.
You take what you want.
Till you flaunt that you’re a bad person.
Personally it took to long to realize.
That the main battle wasn’t you and I.
It was me and my lie.

Maturing is realizing you can’t break the cycle.
If hate was a number you’d ask for the dial.
Generation trauma passed on by baby mamas
Then you wonder where is karma.
But, how can I talk innocent.
When I got blood on my hands, just different.
Or at least I try to be.
But people really in dire need.
For a therapist, so that they may be free.
Let’s stop all whispering, gossiping tea.
The only tea is what happens to you and me.
See I’m still in school.
But already the world so cruel.
You dress nice and you gay.
Dress reckless then you’re a poor stray.
It’s double sworded homocide.
Will that happen to us? You decide.
Do you stay inside, or ride and die.
Do you stop the trauma?
Do you use a semi colon, or comma?
Let me know?
For show.
Show me some support, so I can break.
So I can break what I make.

I’m trying to thing to when I was young.
When you had to watch your tongue.
But now curses fly faster than jets.
And you can bet, they wet.
Juicy curses that hex your family.
I didn’t mean to, rude of me.
I have imperfections.
I’m running around asking questions.
Wondering what’s true perfections.
Is it addiction to affection.
Is it a happy soul?
Is it when a business over sold?
Is it me and when I’m up?
Is it me when I’m down and an overflow cup?
Do you love me for me, or my money?
Would you love me when I’m salt or honey?
How do I fight anxiety?
Which me is the right me?
Any answers?
Do I chase her?
Do I let her come to me, or go for it?
Do I look for others or commit?
I’m hurdled asking questions?
When the teach gonna give a lesson.
On how messy the world is?
Do I go for Kate or Liz?
Pop quiz!

The finale.
The joker mentality.
Acid breaking families, fucking drugs.
Took my uncle, still got a bug.
Death hits hard, sorry to my cousins.
You know one of them in 10th.
They don’t have their daddy anymore.
Ever since then I swore,
I would write till I’m sore.
Hiding every poem in a drawer.
Last rhyme,
Don’t be late be on time.
I missed my one line.
So, now I got to rethink my mind.