they said they wanna see
what a tortured poet
really looks like,
i got a couple hundred
you can read
if you’re tryna see
my life,
take a step
outside your mind
to check out mine.
a twisted vision,
25
but a kid
on the inside,
out of place
with everyone in sight,
using these words
as a means to stay alive
because writing
is the only thing
he really does right.
the revolution
will not be televised,
like desmond said,
you’re just gonna feel it
so be advised,
knocked down
a hundred times
yet still
i rise
like maya,
the poetry king
as advertised,
live and in the flesh,
getting some rhymes off
to remind you
why his mind
is one of the greatest alive.
“they don’t build statues
of the critics,”
so good thing
i’m a poet, too,
a wizard with words
that might be
unheard,
but like HOV said,
i’ll keep showing up,
and i’ll get the trophies
i know i deserve.
emily was ahead
of her time,
so i guess i’ll be
ahead of mine,
everybody
will be writing
and they’ll be thanking me,
all the next-gen poets
i’ll be inspiring,
put me in
the hall of fame already,
mo’s the only one
to get in unanimously
but he’s about
to have some company.
no debate,
i’m the greatest
who’s ever done it
but i’m still not done yet,
i’d say i’m in my prime
but i got a prime
that’s lasting my whole life,
i’ll probably never peak
because i’ll just keep
topping
every last thing i write,
they might be
sleeping on me,
but they’ll see me,
one day,
it’ll be my name
on the marquee.
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