Iron metal rod made of rage
Keeps you in much anchor
Nothing else to gain
Fantasies about your age
Hair turning grey
The pain making you look pale
Happiness in a twinkle
In an awful left eye
She seems beautiful
Maybe,now,her hair might be made of dye
But in no time you will start to frown at her wrinkle
Love is an imprisonment for a heart
A man to look more like a monument
A pride instrument
I do!
That vow,really!
You! Is that true?
When you find yourself locked behind bars
My greatest fears
I’d rather buy cars
Than propose to nurture tears
Continue nonstop for years
She’s hot and sexy,
Take a gaze
And find the next slap landing on your face
The rules and regulations
Awareness of the temptations
These fusions
Are real not illusions
Waking up to my pen
I text everyone
Have fun with all
Leaving none
Instead of being with one
The pain is too much
I’m still a man,
Not ready to beget a son
I choose not a date
Can’t afford the rate
But I love waking up to my pen
-by Mastermind The Poet (Khobby Brown)-
Loved it!