Stress
By zeusdawg
It’s hard enough to keep my best, not my worst face While I struggle just to make it to first place Staring at all these walls like small detours And smiling at every person that ever called me poor But sometimes, I see the world as a dungeon Mystical cage to keep my anger and my guns in Pungent, a field with enigmatic stress Ask me if I feel it and you’ll get an emphatic “Yes” The panic gets ahead and temptation takes hold But never bet against the record setter to break molds See all my closest allies just became my greatest foes My rhyme was gone and it was even hard to say this prose My latest pose was on my feet while enemies fall fast To the power of my mental and lyrical hall pass The soldier known as Zeus has entered in the rhyming game All allies exalted, but haters finding shame Written March 1st, 2002 © on Mar 01 2002 12:11 AM PST 0 • 12
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"It’s hard enough to keep my best, not my worst face..."