I’m all alone, don’t even have a home. Forsaken my family, chopped off all my hair looking kinda manly. Actually, I’m mad at me. Went to jail four times in two weeks, can’t pass go, no get out of jail free cards for me to even see. I’m whimsy.
Lines crossed, broken thoughts, oh please help me, I need to talk to God. I need to let it out. It’s so dark inside this mental cube, can I even shout? I wanted it. Green cash deposited. Scattered structured sentences I vomited it. I’m the bad guy, the one who takes the blame. Screw myself and then I remember stupid people on this earth think that life is just a game. These hungry hippo’s are sorry, but when they throw their darts, they miss their aim, it was a mistake which they proclaim
Ill mind of seven talks about religion. ILL mind of five talks about making bad decisions. Hopsin is the best rapper on earth in my opinion. I’ve been doing nothing with my life except for cause others anger, pain, and bitterness. I don’t even want to look in the kitchen. I won’t see the light. I will just picture all of the knives. Stop, drop, and stroll my conscious repeats, don’t screw around. Grab some gram crackers to eat and put on a new movie because this one is scratched and I’m sick of hitting repeat. Pause, now that I think about it, I sure am blessed that I’m not living on the streets.
I’m bad to the bone and now I’m all alone shaking hosanna s needs, casualty. Wanting a friend indeed. Probably should smoke some weed. Beaten and bruised, it’s screwing up my anatomy. Don’t give up, I should have learned to see, itching to stitch the shards of brokenness, reaching for the payphone. I used thee.
Yay in the name of love. I’m talking about abusing drugs. Cross faded is my middle name. When you do things over and over expecting different results, you go insane. I’m stressing, no needles, no injections, no way it’s not the same. Whoe is me sitting inside my brain. I stood up for my man. He tossed me into the trash can. I had his back. Low self esteem and collateral is what I lacked. I sped from the cops. My dad sent me to jail. How can I hope when I feel like I epically fail. Domestic violence comes next. I’m lost. When God gives you a great friend. God says no my child this is a test. Now I’m doing my time for my four crimes. Drifting into a maze, like a monkey I’m climbing. I hear sad silhouettes from the notes of my imaginary violin.
I’m bad to the bone, and I’m all alone. Shaking hosannas needs, casualty. Wanting a friend to see. Probably should stop all my inner greed. New energy, revving up my emotional speed. Focusing on loving myself and those needs. Epitome of my new epiphany, stand straight up, don’t even slouch. I always get myself in trouble with what comes out of my mouth. I reassure myself this time doesn’t have to go south. Creativity is my inner being and that’s what I’m all about.
I’m all alone, thinking about possible homes. Jesus has forgiven me. Who cares about my short hair, it’s all about my inner beauty. What’s inside me is what counts. Every verse exploding out of my spouts. Pause, analyzing, resurrect with some respect please because I’m whimsy.
Whitney Etheridge
