8. from the beginning

september ‘17,

she’d rejected me,

wasn’t ready

but it hit me harder

than i was expecting,

didn’t know why

but my mind

fell into a bad place,

i couldn’t let it go,

the world was crushing me

in its grasp,

and the trauma

eventually kicked in,

needed a way

to express it,

so i wrote it down,

took my chance

to unleash the emotions

and real thoughts

on a page,

then put it out

and let it have

it’s own life.

who’d have thought

it’d take me here?

thought i’d be sitting

behind the camera,

but chose to switch lanes,

the written word

was my haven,

i was a maven,

trying to play my part

in changing the world,

17 albums

in a year’s time,

a moment of highs

and giant lows,

wrote like

i was possessed

with a symbiote,

later learned

to take it slow,

but no matter the speed,

i was spittin’,

speaking that real shit,

my pen’s been livid,

i wrote for the nobodies

who had shit on the mind

but didn’t know how to say it.

and look what i made of it.

31 albums down

and i’m still the king,

from the beginning,

i had a gift,

but i never thought

this would be

the life i’d live,

yet here i am,

comfortable on the throne,

when i’m in my zone,

i know there’s no one better,

make like moses,

part the ocean

and the bars i write,

shoutout to dom,

that shit was deep,

and shoutout to me,

because sometimes

i need it,

i’m messy

and still learning

to trust my mental,

but as long as i breathe,

i’ll write these stories,

and i’ll make sure

that they remember me,

the poetry king.

let’s make a toast to me.