Ill Usin'
• Written by D-Long-
Wearing wolf clothes hanging with these sheep
Not by the noose, Chopped by the news
Of hanging as a wreath, Danger as I seek
Stranger foes cranking out of sleep
Making what I made of it, anchor at my feet
Going for a swim, Knowing what I am
Isn't what was planned by the hand of abuser
Landing a bruise or two(to) stand against the future
I demand of my pupils their answers of pursuers
But there's-- no suspects, I'm just a witness
No subjects, That's not my business
No objects, So there's no weakness
To sweeten this deal into viscous
With this group of peers buried in my story
About groups of peers buried in a storage
How I lose the fear buried in this porridge
I'll never know, I'll never show
how I'm worried 'bout this shortage
Of Goldilocks interlocked into spoilage
Anointed by myself, but smeared by community
Hoisted on the shelf, Cheering with immunity
Moisture on my head, searing and confused to see
Exposure of my death, hearing opportunities
Disproving me of innocence, end the chance
Of living plans, I've been enhanced, Winning stance
When I went entranced by the given hands
Haven't seen this Grand event before,
Still convinced I'm another Salem victim
Making wisdom through creating rhythm
In these bones I break and stricken
Hate me, wickeds, I've been waken, driven
To this constitution, I've been staying sickened
Through this constant losing, drop the music
stop the muse, it's all of my con's illusion
Conscience used, It's all of my con's illusion
Lying to myself, It's all of my con's illusion
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About the Artist
D-Long-
Member since December 24 2013