glömde skriva att A.Social proddat, jag skrivit och rappar och Billie som nynnar lite här och var. the silent approach is the tone of my voice when im home on my own but my calmness is noisy i burn and im hurt but i smile for my folks my mind is in war but its cries is being choked i was on my own, when platters were serving you help selfservice at 7, i was serving myself when i was hurting or cursing i turned to myself when i was burning or purging i turned to myself thats the motherfucking pride in my rage it was pent up inside, caged, started to design hate was lookin up to find ways, guidance or help but i was taught to survive, you rely on yourself son of outcasted immigrants, inhibited a part of the earth where black hair was deemed primitive its not about the melanin, when people want to hate men you just have to be a different to be compared to Satan i was a stranger in a world with noone to lean on my mother in the hospital, my father on the run i was four when my senses began to become numb fantasizing about hurting myself with knives and guns like the humiliation wasnt enough of being less worth i had to take care of my brother and sister and to whisper words of wisdom, til their system changes entertaining them with funny faces me myself? i excavated during night routes i was 10, and couldnt sleep with my fuckin lights out i was putting signs out, my mind couldnt hold it beeing in stealth, just seeking to be noticed i came from nowhere, the land of the bombed kids a nation of muslim terrorist accomplice a pride that is tarnished, ashamed of my roots cuz i been forcefed the six o'clock version of "truth" i hated the mullahs, i hated the guilt i hated the muslims, cuz i hated myself i thought if i was christian, shit would'a switched then i'd be respected, i wouldnt be a victim i would get accepted, but not for what i was but for a motherfucker, molded into a slut, like they own me since they own my selfimage they tossin me crumbs and keepin precentage and its givin me a headache just to think about the rest amount the time that i did spend bitchin about the situation and all the shit and all the pain and all the kicks and all the blame and all they mispronounce my name and all the pits that caught my brain its insane, i switched shame, i wanted somethin else so i replaced it with a made up image of myself a fairytale of lands, aint a livin for a man and i still see alot of you caught up in that act you can rock the map and sing the songs but that doesnt mean the demon's gone you would switch your heritage for a pair blue eyes and dive into a white skin, and forget what you reciting about equality and fightin for the right to speak your language the anguish, always wilding out like a savage cuz supressed insecurities is causing static until you leave that passage, til you face the hazard that your fantasies are fantasies and nothin more than that, kid! the value of a man aint in where the fuck he's born or where the fuck he's from, or where the fuck he's gone the value of a man is in the shit he does and says and thinks and how treats his fellow humans, just... *sigh* i can go on forever but i'll cut to the ending and leave out the rest i proved myself worthy of myself as myself and there's pride in the rage that made my selfhatred melt
seperate me from your little open mics, please.