Margins of the Page

I write life in the margins of the page Small print thoughts never framed on a stage They highlight the headlines, I underline truth Every bar footnotes proof I don’t shout, I explain it clear Let the beat breathe, let the words appear I was raised in the space between What they sell and what they really mean I learned more from the cracks in the floor Than the signs on the office door Every rule got a blind-side clause I read the silence, not the applause Margins of the page, that’s where I stay Margins of the page, let it play Margins of the page, outside the frame If you don’t read close, you miss my name I don’t chase light, I reflect it back Calm voice, heavy where the weight sit at No filler bars, no wasted breath Every sentence gotta earn its step They talk loud, but they say nothing I talk plain, make it say something I been studying patterns and gaps Where the truth slip through the maps No myth-making, no hero pose Just logic wrapped in metaphors I move slow so the point land clean Let the thought hit hard, not the spleen Margins of the page, still unread Margins of the page, what I said Margins of the page, ink stay brave Whole world loud, but I misbehave They skim life, I read it twice Small letters change the price I don’t need a chorus to sing along I need four bars to prove them wrong Let the rhythm do the heavy lift Let the silence be the twist Every line got intent and aim No disguise, no costume change I’m not hidden, I’m just precise Truth don’t glitter, it cut like ice Margins… Still the sharpest part of the book.