Poetry

F.T.S.

I have no where to go
Nothing to show

Im hangin at the end of my rope

But new days keep comin

Im not frontin

I kno Im stressin

Madd lies goin round

But in the end

It dont matter who said it

Or if its true

Im on my grind

Doin what I gotta do

And now what?

No roof, no guap

DAMN I feel stuck

I swear to God I feel like givin up

Throw the towel in

6 feet under, face up

Then I think about my daughter and regret it

But yea I still said it

If workin hard dont make me stable

How the fukk Im s’posed to get it

So please TELL ME

What a bitch gotta do

I’ve tried and I’ve tried

But its just no use

All the tears from the pain

Got me goin thru this agony

If there’s supposed to better days

Then why’s my life filled with:

Tragedy? Heart break?

And phony back stabbin mutha fukkas

I been tryna live straight

But now I feel like gettin Gutta,

Grimey, Shiesty, straight fukkin Bitch Mode

The voices say I should give in

But I dont mutha fukkin think so

T.B.C….

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