17 October 2010


Bless those who are still breathing;
As you see your vision through black crimes while brothers in packs crying;
It seems like everybody is dying;
Too drugged up to ask why, the explanation of genocide is when we exterminate our own kind;
Watching our down falls; witnessing the end;
It’s like we don’t even believe in God because we living in sins;
Nobody mourns no more;
Not even the dead receive the comfort of any grievers, for sure;
Is it the miniature caskets with babies; victims of stray bullets; drug dealers’ gone crazy?
That makes our souls become savage like wild raccoons with rabies;
What is it that we all feel, as we look into our reflection in the mirror?
We cannot escape faith because it keeps getting nearer;
You cannot close your eyes because all you see is terror;
The hatred of a man in the mirror because of his image makes the pain turn realer;
Is this the manifestation of our reality that we bread as our own creator?
You started out as a beginner, entering the criminal minded mainstream you are now a sinner;
As you fall on your knees and beg for mercy not known whether or not you are worthy;
The weed and patron cannot comfort your pain;
Stressed with the thought of living just to die, where is the fame?
Tears fall like droplets of rain; still we search for frames;
Murder; Murder; look it’s Mr. Lucifer,
No it’s a picture of the devil while he shoots at you;
It’s all political as he tells you no need to get spiritual;
So you continue to be the product of his conniving rituals;


Written by: Ricky Omar Mitchell
Copyright 2010

No comments:

Post a Comment