Blood on my hoodie Interlude
Walking past trouble everyday, I see the dirt they lay on my hands I feel the watchful eyes that glance my every path, but perhaps if they look closer, give it alil more of a look they would see stress wrinkles under both eyes, the dried up tears I cried... They don't tho... But who am I to blame, society shamed me to walk this way, talk this way...walk with a bop, screaming hip hop made me do it, whenever I go thru it. Spare me the lectures of section 8 separate such foreshadowing hate you create to fuck up my mind, leave behind all transparent truth you think that you know about me. I walk a thin line along with my thin Sean John leather hands clutching my stomach, I still feel those piercing eyes upon my backside, run and hide? and where might that be? In these streets the killers look just like me... I bare no sympathy... Just the hope of one day you will soon care... To stop yourself from staring and ask me if I'm okay...one day
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