Relapse...

And I get these panic attacks
Pop a Xanax, relax

I'm having a relapse.. cursing things
"who you calling a bitch" words flow from a pen
so mean..
writing red
on his head
Tired of the people who know me best
not noticing
or taking advantage
The one's who know me least
point fingers
deceased are feelings
complain and wine
I drink to numb the feeling that
love...
like hip hop
is dying
my seed deserves the best
yet life
every test
is a trick question
that breeds lessons
of how we rush into shit
that makes no sense
and then rethink it
when it's too late
indeed God is trying to tell me something
but I feel bad
going to Him when I've had
my last kick to the head
wrong to go when life is beating you down
should be praising Him smile or frown
but I need...
need to know what to do...
organized religion
I envision
but simply.cannot
find my mission
life's
not
list'nin
the first third of my life is upon me
close
breathing on my ear
and I fear...
I've not accomplished what
I was set out to do
have you?
and how much fuckin time do we really have?