meek as a lion in a pride full of victims
with an eye full of visions
time dried up his tear ducts
hailed from environments like a siren to eardrums
reigned in creeks, soaked deep in red rum
open wounds a landscape for Epsom
let out a roar, then bedlam!
and there’s no place to exit
…
nonviolent gorilla reconciling with killa’s
they say it takes a village
but the neighborhood pillaged
the fathers imprisoned
opportunism built it
then it was pain that filled it
coping has numbed all feelings
so the gun is emotion… to live you must conceal it
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