writingsfromashesx

so I hit the street runnin’

not a second too soon,

checked ma heart,

a bit of class

bought at local supermart.

ma feet start pumping,

not comin’ last,

no bus no cart

coz movin’ fast

to the lift,

to the imagination room.

Got stopped in the boulvard,

Raj,..then he starts

the little tune;

I see your very lucky.

Did you speak to me?

You got a lot of luck comin’..

Well,excuse me

is there a fee?

No sir, please..

just a little money.

Oh I see, lucky me;

feet meet street,

to the lift,

to the imagination room.

There’s a lot of people comin’,

got their silver spoon - 

their eyes disguise

shady lies,

crooked rise,

lip thin despise

behind the ties

don’t ask me why,

but I’m runnin’

to the imagination room.

Then I remember ’bout the gunnin’,

shine black metal n’  the boom;

sudden thud

a stud’s mug blood ugly

stained the mud,

oh my God;

his body I should adjust,

straighten up..

that’s enough,

dignity.

Got ma stuff,

and my legs pump

to the imagination room.