Monday, 22 April 2019

Lost as a sheep.

Lost as a sheep.

Lost as a sheep, I wandered as I wondered,
Where the place for a man like me lays in yonder.
Asunder from God as I try to discover my treasure,

worry crept up on me, shoving me off deck unto plank;
Beastly eyes, wicked claws, foul breathe heaving behind my neck,
Awaiting my next move to gradually bring me distress.

They say It's not a hustle if it's not bringing in enough money,
Even if it could stone Goliath, they say almost doesn't hit a fly,
And behind the shadows it larks, it's bound to remain timid

It's not a struggle if it seems to be fenced in privilege,
So I am neither struggling or hustling,
Am in between advantaged, and lazy,
Lucky but useless, they say my wind shield is smudged.

So my efforts are reckless; like a peeping lingerie affair.
On life's Richter scale for people like me; am a lazy idealist,
even if am constantly at it, wielding  multiple visions,

I am impaired, my eyes can't get my feet to move.
I'm Micheal on sativa, two "right" feet ayeh I've lost the groove,
They don't believe in what I do- I look like I have no clue.

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