Cement Shoes

Really don't know what to say about this one, I basically just let my emotions guide the pen. It should come with no surprise though, seeing how there's a heavy emphasis on emotions in this poem. Watch me dance with cement shoes on!

Tell em they can’t walk in my shoes cuz my souls are worn out living in a present past

Training myself to put my worst foot forward first so I can save the best for last

An impressive cat that learned early on in life never to resent its laps

And to this day the lesson last see I have this tendency to talk first & listen last

A motor mouth who soldiered out, living in his motor house

Trying to sort it out, I thought it out still missing what it’s all about

Missing what it’s all about so tell those two self righteous poets, I don’t need them to like me

So they can go to Hell cuz I’ve been there & back & that’s where I learned to be young & feisty

And how I learned to spit with a thirst so raw that it can’t be quenched with just any iced tea

So tell God to Skype me unless I’m crazy and I very well just might be

Tell those two self righteous poets that we never needed to be friends

Cuz when you lost it you find better company with the voices in your head

But they’ll remain nameless cuz I could talk so much s*** but my stomach would get upset

Then to win it back, I’d have to apologise for all the mean things I said

With my knees on the gravel, I’ll grovel to Gravol, still pass the paper

Cuz ever since I dropped out, this rascal’s major has been to draft a paper

That’ll historically rival Pascal’s wager but the future has more to see

And with zero potency, I’ll try to live on through my emo poetry

Singing my heart break to my crush like 

You be the princess,

I’ll be your monster

Have you met your prince yet? 
Could he be your martyr? 
I bet he ain’t artistic

Aimlessly I’ll wander, 
I wanna taste your lipstick
Instead I’m left with heart hurt

But she’ll turn away cuz I’m not much of a singer, still I’m singing harder

Till my tonsils sore, the Child’s missing the good old days of the console wars

If only Sega knew, if only Sega knew exactly what’s in store

But alas, we’re both obsolete, two 16 bit souls in a Black Ops age

And from what I hear, PlayStation’s all the rage I fall from grace, far from safe

So I draw blood to draw guns to draw love on a pad armed with crayons

The day’s long, feeling right at home with the blues & the paper I create on

My feelings are right at home, the resent, the reject, & my personal lament

Tell em they can’t walk in my shoes cuz these shoes are custom made of cement

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