I'm content, not complacent
Forgiving, not indulgent
Tryna craft my verses so they're cogent
Thin lines between the aforementioned pairs;
I've seen how tension wears
Fields free from tares are my greatest cares

I've seen some better days
And I've known some better nights
Nonetheless, my ardor stays
Cedar to termites

I never really realized
I wasn't truly baptized
Till I was able to put my life upon a table
And watch the feeble cable upon which it all relies
And take my taste of vale's lies

I've sown some mighty seeds
And have flown amongst the crows;
I have seen how pencil bleeds
O'er Styx my pen rows

I
Have seen the Reaper
In
The eyes of man
Cold
Are jeers of critics;
Bold
I must stand

It feels off to take a girl out on my mother's money
So I do seek secure the bag
I'm not frontin' for honey

But I don't need dough for some idle beauty
Pen's all I need for my kind of duty
Scratch of the paper'll do it for me
If I bleed for the craft I can write a story

I don't want to spend my life beholden to the banal;
If you know me you know I see writing on the panel

Chosen
Easy to forget when you're surrounded;
Blinded
By the sickly seeds which Orchard's founded on;
I'm not a pawn
I am the board upon which the game is played upon

Fall to my knees;
I will sail how I know;
I hear call of the seas
Mast and canvas are my flow
Feeling like writing a villanelle and some quatrains;
Feeling sweetness like vanilla coursing through my veins;
Familiar sensation of the craft taking soul's reins;
Recognizing pitter-patter of creativity's rains

Chasing
Not for the cup of the liquor
But for my vocation;
Pacing
Not for the sake to be sicker
But for the pure reason of patience

Long into the night I work upon my craft;
I've been swimming in the sea
Without even inflated raft;
All that's certain in this life is uncertainty
While you're searching for surety
I'm in love with insanity

If you cry Ma
It won't buy time;
I've been walking in the tundra
In dead of night;
And I sing my songs
So I don't lose sight;
I know all the creatures
Are drawn to the light
Haven't found a lover on my lonely trail
'Cause my uncle always taught me chase more than tail;
I'm the kind of brother that'll seek life's wrath
For sake of blood to write a tale

Closing my eyelids I see my moira, yeah, see I my fate
Which is another reason nothing on this earth can hope me sate

Sweet
I look like cinnamon;
Sour
Tasting from my lemon pen;
Wheat
I separate it from the chaff;
Power as I use my staff

Swinging like a Tarzan
Through the jungle—Wisdom;
Spray can—I am—
Making art on the walls of the mausoleums
'Spite the spectators of the coliseums;
I know it appalls but I draw on the palls;
And I speed it up
And I do not pause;
I'm a shepherd to the flock and I see the paws
Of the wolf in the midst of the sheep—
Big jaws

If you cry Ma
It won't buy time;
I've been walking in the tundra
In dead of night;
And I sing my songs
So I don't lose sight;
I know all the creatures
Are drawn to the light