When my inspiration stopped loving me
These powerful words stopped hugging me
To not see the future of this poem, call it quits and just go home
That what I’m dealing just ain’t reeling the right tone,
The chaotic rhythm of the J’dyism that roams, have been singled and made lone the escapee’s thrown into the nearest prison, eyes glisten they’ll be something I’m missing
When the white silent walls speak louder then me when I call for ya’ll
My finger nails bleeding, pain exceeding dragging myself along, edging up your front lawn,
The sun falls, the sky’s dawn.
When I’m down on my knee’s begging slamming each hand against your front door
When you refuse to speak to me forever more
Because I can’t deliver the show you all crave for..
When I just can’t do it…
When I can’t foresee the next line in time I’m meant to rhyme,
The church tower clock chime’s past nine, followed by the horn of a 4by4
When their here and that’s my call, to be taken by satan to hell’s core
Squashed and crumpled broken on these firey floors smoked
Struggling not huggling when I’m choking
It’s the murder I wrote
The one I’ve been long hoping, but then I was only joking maybe now I’m still just poking my plea
When my inspiration stopped loving me