Low High


[A poem about Loving the rebel, the one that’s bad for you]

Warnings of the old
Fallen on ears deaf to wise words
Now a cross to bear on shoulders frail
Young, wild and thought to be free
Oh the lies as shadows cast on true freedom
Is anything under the sun ever truely free?
He got caught up in the crowd
Sold out to the curiosity of youth
Brought to ruin by easy money and Nike’s
Drenched in sweat from running under the clouds tears
Hooked on white and smoke
Trapped in the music
Addicted to the rush
Made to bow to the feel of being invincible
Here everyone’s the furthest thing from perfect
But he chose to go the extra mile
Daring life to deal it’s card
Now he’s lost
Wandering in a maze of fantasy
Seeking rainbows and moolah and a new kind of high
Burning bridges that once led back to shore
Trying to escape the truth
Praying to genies
A good man
In the wrong hair
Exhaling, Personality got taken away
Now all that’s left are burnt lips and a blank stare
Fat lost but not to hunger
Heart frozen to emotion
Loving doppelganger with selfish intensity
But he’s my yan
And I love him

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