My incite on life - writing is my passion,
The words that I write make me like an assassin,
Expect a reaction - inject like a vaccine,
Gain some 'attraction' - all words but no action
Yet no satisfaction for what I've become
My mind is now empty - my heart is now numb
I know where I'm from - it may be the slums
It's where my heart is - for what I've succumb
I have some problems, but I don't try to sheild it,
I try my best to attest, let the people feel it,
I don't try to conceal it - they relate, I reveal it
I may be slightly stressed but this is how I heal it
And one day I'll be gone, in the ground and withdrawn,
But I know I'll live on through my writings and songs,
I may not go along with this world I'm upon,
But at least I'll still know where I truly belong