cold rain raps by rebel jones (Remix) (Remix)

I'm in the rain here on hold Getting cold So I take this here pen, Attempting to tell poetry it needs not to fear the truth, Perhaps I got that mixed up and confused, and even backward, Let me restate that, Poetry is here to tell us all to not fear the truth, For that is what sets you and me free. So how do we proceed... For me it's poetry, A place where thoughts and depth are intertwined. It's taboo almost shhhhh... If these dirty sheets I write upon are the last of the loose leaf, then so be it, This poetry Thang, all the way to the end of my stretch on this plane it's poetry I shall bleed! You see when I write poetry it takes control of me like something or someone took control of my mind, Do you see me or hear my haunting voice embedded in your thoughts and dreams? Hmmm, do ya? Listen close to me, For I haven't any appetite for the shit the world wishes me to sit an eat, Keep your super bowls and news networks to yourself for I know my crowd that listens faithfully waiting to eat! It's a cold future for the children, I'm starting to realize and see the children are cold because the chips on their shoulders are now frozen boulders put there by unevolved old fools like me. I guess I could say sorry, But that just ain't me, See Just like I said before I have no appetite for this... This... This new-age bullshit, So I sit here on my knees talking to the great big blackness that resides there up above me, and I says " when my time on this old rock come to its end Walk me not into the darkness please, I beg of you. But reasoning with destiny doesn't always get you the results you're looking for, as you search and search, and you explore until you find yourself reaching into madness unable to ignore the faces behind the voices in the box... Your poor fractured broken mind... Perhaps it's true and poetry saved my miserable life, and made chaos sound beautiful. Perhaps I've found myself writing this here as a forgiven love piece to poetry that's done more for me than I could ever give due credit to. You see My traumas mixed with my inner demons and a time when I enjoyed feeding them could have killed me, How fortunate I am to return a short-lived budding rose that rose and grows in broken cracks of worn concrete, I am that beautiful Not as a man, But as a living soul. I am not so blind to forget as a man what ugliness I put you through. The hunting game I played with life to understand what exactly is this truth, if perception is unique, so like an individual view, If this is true then I'm confused as candles guiding headlights to its impending doom. Blind following the blind why can't we see Era after Era that's pretty much all we humans do.. Consume follow and some more consume Die and This is how we the general populace unknowingly define life. Something tells me this revolution to come will Tik tok computer screens and be very televised.