Poems

Poor, poor thing, don't pick on yourself Don't you know all that horrible ain't good for yourself? If you can't find no tolerance, nor good for yourself Talk to your friends (go) 'Cause there's more, more, more, more fickleness out there Where everybody's standing in the middle like Malcolm Tragedy cannot be helped if you're out there But you ain't the only one that's scared That's why I write these poems Carry the words of the unspoken, yeah I got my ears and my eyes open in every room that I go in, go in 'Cause they don't hear us on the radio And they don't hear us when we feeling low But I got my hand and my heart Open for every sorrow you mope in, mope in, yeah RIP, Trevor, I send my love to your family in these endeavours I send condolences, my nigga, Bigz, keep your head up Why does it feel that the tragedies have fucking sped up, sped up All of these woes opposite the pleasure? I know it's easy to ostracise, but stick together Good times are on the horizon, even if you're fed up I feel the pain of the people, that's why I well up, well up That's why I write these poems Carry the words of the unspoken, yeah I got my ears and my eyes open in every room that I go in, go in 'Cause they don't hear us on the radio And they don't hear us when we feeling low But I got my hand and my heart Open for every sorrow you mope in, mope in, yeah I hear the words that ain't spoken, yeah I hear them out in the open, yeah I know that love can be provoking (yeah) That's why I go back to smoking When I can't let out what my mind's antidoting, 'doting, yeah I've got some pain, I've got to take to the grave, Darg (it's okay) I tried to cry, but, no, it won't go away, nah (it's okay) I look my mate Greg in his eyes, see the pain that he hides But when he looks at me, I know he can see mine I put this pen to this paper to make a change And if the end is close, my poetry remains 'Cause in the end, we're gonna die, and I hope I do not fry My sin's the only reason I'm alive That's why I write these poems Carry the words of the unspoken, yeah I got my ears and my eyes open in every room that I go in, go in 'Cause they don't hear us on the radio And they don't hear us when we feeling low I got my hand and my heart Open for every sorrow you mope in mope in, yeah