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The Trap

(For My New York City A Train Rush Hour Ridin' Ass People)

Blank stares on the A train
I recognize this too completely
Express stops to nowhere 
Where expressions can live freely 
And the train is packed 
so there's no room for healing 
what we're dealing with here. 
It's called new Yorker syndrome. 
Out of towners are perplexed by 
The emptiness such a lit city can bring home.
Their accents, questions and lack 
of direction makes our ears ring. 
They don't understand us
They know that we are free 
While we fear they'll reprimand us 
For feeling free enough to agree that 
A little while back new York 
fucked up the family tree that 
brings us all together, and we're 
Losing hopes due to the note that 
we might have fucked up forever
We don't mind our own endeavors enough 
To hide the disdain because 
It costs us to breathe
We often don't complain because 
the garners had it worse and 
Their hearts may never be at ease 
under a ruler that will never be pleased 
(If so are we...)
And we know this cuz we're "AWOKE." 
Trapping from one job to the next
to avoid the choke when it's time 
to pay those dues, but WE AIN'T BROKE!!! 
For now we're just broken, 
afraid our scars will bust wide open 
regardless of the countless scar tissue
that render our hearts unspoken while...
Outspoken lie no secrets, 
they live deep within the creases of this thesis
and though I'm sure that ALL 
will read this, 
I pray that only WE see this - 
He who's past the contemplation
of breaking his barriers down for the last time...
She who prays to one of those gods that claim
"If you prey every day, your soul wont die."

He who's lost in a spell
that propels in a well 
Of this HELL we drink carelessly 
(red wine)
And the more that we sip, 
we continue to slip 
and the flavor of this... it tastes just fine.



be continued... and trust me it'S NOT entirely morbid, it brightens all the way up! 

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