Freestyle #5

To the critics of love, I’d like to say you are right.
I thought I was correct in thinking it was a fight
And even if it is, it’s not fair.
How can one fight for what he isn’t sure is even there

Anymore.

It was once before.
It was once a visitor knocking on his door.
Not from the usual whore
But from one who offered everything he wanted and more

And she never tried to be anything other than herself.
So he knew he could stop pretending
He knew he could stop defending
This desire he had for a girl. Cause she became his world.

But like most of the time, he moved too fast.
He crashed. Burned. Scorned by his love for love.
His passion just didn’t make the cut.
Once she saw the depth of it, he knew he fucked up.

Again.

Never again.
Yeah, you say that all the time.
Nah bro this time I mean it, fuck these hoes.
Sure nigga, now which one of us gon’ roll?

THC in my bloodstream,
Got me feeling so mean.
Feeling like I could call up my ex
And lay out a bunch of things

Shit like,
Bitch I never cheated on you.
Despite the fact that I could have.
The fuck did you want me to do?

Or maybe I’d just like to believe in fairy tales.
Bring myself to think that there was something I could do.
When in actuality, there was nothing.
It was all left up to you

That’s my fault honestly.
I recognize that now.

Don’t mistake me, I’m not down.
Rarely low these days anymore, I stay floating.
Inside the herb lies my solutions
So as I exhale, I stay hoping.

That one may work out.

I know what you’re thinking.
My habits, to you, may make me seem dumber
Than the average heartbroken stoner
But I’d rather be numb-er than the average weed-smoking loner