Writing Through Pain

These hoes. These hoes. Bringing fire to my eyes, eyes.

I know, I know. It's killing me inside. Things I sacrificed,

for this life. Aye. 13 trying to write through the pain.

While mom worked late just to cover that strain. When the light bill came a

threat in words, so I sold my first bit just to cover that debt.

Don't see that side, they just rate the drip. Well,

the drip come from nights that I hate to admit. I don't flex

on the 'Gram, I reflect in the dark when I talk to my past,