It’s just an everyday expression
Without it, may as well invite in depression.
It’s a different flavor than the normal garb,
And if your real, it’ll cut through the BS,
sharper than a barb.
A different flow, a different sound.
Damn, I can feel my heart start to pound.
The blood coursing through my veins,
Praying to God I don’t end up soiling my Hanes.
It’s finally my turn to go.
They all look at me as if I’m their arch-foe.
What they don’t understand is this isn’t voluntary,
This isn’t something I chose.
This is obligatory.
Me, a pen, paper, and God-willing,
Halfway decent prose.
Blah blah blah, it’s just words on a page.
Put the pen down kid,
You’ll never make the stage.
The voices never seem to stop
But they do seem to get quieter,
With each and every word that I drop.
So what now? Where do we go from here?
Take a deep breath and kick in the chest that friend we call fear.