My State of Mind Pt.2

 It’s a mysterious scene when my pencil and paper collaborate. I abuse rhymes to make the atoms in your brain elaborate. I use the art of poetry to express my Interval instincts. After my human flesh shield becomes extinct or expires, the least I can do is leave manuscripts to decipher. I don’t possess the means of violence within the palm of my hand. I treat others as if my life was just a grain of sand. Not even the government would be able to corrupt my plan. The worst weapon of mass destruction is an educated black man. I take long walks to stimulate this little light of mine. That’ll be the day when thinking becomes a crime.

My scheme is to pass down wisdom to the ignorance that be. I won’t charge a dime, even though in this cruel world ain’t a damn thing free. I hate how the media steps on my community with stereotypical cleats. It pains me everytime another “brotha” falls victim to the streets. I can’t blame society for what goes on in my vicinity. It may take a village to raise a kid, but if the village is damaged, he’ll just get noticed on the news for his first jail bid.