{ 光 } ━ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝟣𝟩𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 ( fin )

♛: garden of e.d.e.n

young brown boy

finds himself

lost in the garden,

knees still muddy

though the grass is green.

he picked the apple

thinking it was supposed to be juicy.

don't let the Gucci hiss at you pretty.

you aren't allowed to be picky.

He didn't tell you to eat from any tree.

you know better than to listen to Givenchy

welcoming you to bring all your friends

to a succumbed salvation.

pick the pen up and hold the gun down.

don't you think we all know this is harder than life?

how fast can you write 'AK' in the script?

my uncle did 47 times too late.

shortcuts drain blood boy.

you know what they don't say to you,

when a fish stays too long

it starts to stink.

you don't know no Clinton,

No Bush to hide behind.

your father earned his last name

when his father played his cards wrong

and lost at the lynching game

and now you wear chains,

playing games boy?

bite the apple.

see where it takes you.

you better hope out of e.d.e.n

away from every. dead. end. nigga.

⚛︎⚛︎⚛︎

this is the shit i write after listening to kendrick lamar. p.s. no, i'm not going to apologize for saying nigga. based on the context in the poem, it fits quite fine.