I'm like a mime who has to talk,
Pushin on the walls of this glass box,
My past knocks,
Tryin to pick the last locks,
But time flys like fast clocks,
Dying as my casket mocks,
I'm not gettin a shallow grave but a deep tomb,
Grims about to reap soon,
So ill sleep til noon,
Then leap the moon,
Ward off evil doers and become a wilted cowered,
Aged but not matured like milk soured,
But like a lion will devour,
I'm dandy when I kill a flower,
Pains a killer so I give a pill the power,
Do I even need a dying wish,
Tears more invisible than a crying fish,
Then the dust cloud clears,
I bust out in tears,
And my trust and doubt mirrors,
My eyes fill up and I blink away tears,
They drip down on my tattoos and the ink smears,
Words are phrases caught in the middle,
They can mean a lot or a little
Like a jot or tiddle,
It can be a shot that wittles,
You down and rots you brittle,
I was taught this riddle,
Sinkin lower and lower into quick sand,
Burning temper how much can this wick stand,
The flame cowers cause its scared of ice,
So I ask myself will I rely on paradise or a pair of dice,
Tried to buy happiness but couldn't bear the price,
Instead I'm a weeping willows face,
I have a headrest but no sleeping pillow case,
When I die is when ill please the dirt,
Til then the grave is just a tease or flirt,
God never answered my prayer now my knees hurt,
I was just another one of the busy bees at work,
But nervousness makes me break out in hives,
I ask myself what's in the mindset of those who take their lives,
My nerves burstin,
And it seems ever curve worstens,
My life is nothing but twists and turns,
And my fist learns,
You won't win every fight,
So grit your teeth with a heavy bite,
Words are phrases caught in the middle,
They can mean a lot or a little
Like a jot or tiddle,
It can be a shot that wittles,
You down and rots you brittle,
I was taught this riddle,
I've been soakin up sin like a lake swells a sponge,
That's all until it ends and I take hells plunge,
My tears freeze to my face,
I just wish this winter season was erased,
I'm an open book but books are for reading,
But don't judge a book by its cover looks are decieving,
I always feel taller alone,
Cause people walking all over me is breakin my collar bone,
I got two tricks at the ends of my sleeve,
My magic act is over and all my friends leave,
I got no backbone feels like I got a slinky there,
Grow some fuckin balls I pinky swear,
I know I'm biting at the heels
But I need to get back on track cause its guiding my wheels,
We all know all metal eventually rusts,
My mind doesn't settle it mentally dusts,
Words are phrases caught in the middle,
They can mean a lot or a little
Like a jot or tiddle,
It can be a shot that wittles,
You down and rots you brittle,
I was taught this riddle,