No Bracket

I put a thought in a sentence, then stretch it until it's elastic

The penmanship's intricate, every syllable interreactive

I pivot the rhythm, the minute you think that I'm finished, I'm back with

A different perspective, connecting the dots you considered distracted

I'm giving the page an identity, breathing through imagery

Literally building a bridge out of words that were killing me

Cynically, critics will listen for flaws in the symmetry

Missing the meaning beneath all the technical ability

I got a pocket of patterns, a cabinet packed with cadences

The kind of arrangements that change how you hear what the statement is

I take an ordinary phrase rearrange the placement

Then give it a second interpretation without explaining it

The violin cries while the guitar strings shimmer

I'm painting with the language, every bar a different picture

The drums keep knocking like a tenant with a temper

I'm writing through December with the hunger of September

No bracket, no ladder, no number beside my name

I came to put the craft on trial, let the sentences explain

If the pen is a blade, then the page is where I sharpen it

Every line another layer, every verse another argument

I can make a simple statement carry weight without a scale

Make a metaphor confess, make a syllable leave a trail

Make the ending of a bar feel like the start of something else

I don't need to sound complex if the thought can speak itself

 

No bracket, I'm just trying to see where I land

Been writing all these verses, trying to understand who I am

Got a lot up on my mind that I can't fit in a song

So I put it in a rhyme and just let the beat run

I ain't worried about the numbers, I got something to say

Been up late with a pen, trying to get it on the page

And if nobody hears it, at least I know it's mine

I just hope they hear the truth somewhere between the lines

 

seen a man sell his soul for a salary, smiling like nothing was wrong

His daughter was waiting at home with a drawing, he promised he'd see her at dawn

Funny how money can turn into medicine, then be the reason you're gone

You spend your whole life trying to buy back the time that you wasted on getting it on

I got relatives acting like strangers, exchanging a glance when I walk in the room

Some people bring flowers to funerals, secretly praying you get there too soon

I learned that the sweetest of voices can carry the venom that poisons the bloom

And sometimes the people who tell you they're proud are the ones hoping you never improve

I remember the nights when the streetlights flickered, the pavement was wet from the rain

We were laughing at nothing, too young to know something was waiting to happen again

Now I'm older, the jokes don't hit right, and the silence got louder than all of my friends

It's a strange kind of grief when you miss who you were, but you know you can't go there again

I've seen desperation dressed up in designer, a poverty mindset with a chain

Seen people with nothing give everything freely, and rich folks get sick over change

The world got a funny way twisting the truth till the innocent carry the blame

And everybody's preaching about being themselves while they're terrified looking estranged

I don't know if it's growth or I'm simply exhausted from trying to decipher the signs

I used to believe every promise they made, now I watch how they move over time

You can give someone everything, still be the villain the moment you draw a line

And the hardest part isn't accepting they're gone, it's admitting you knew all the time

Now the moon's hanging low and the neighborhood's quiet, the air's got a chill to the bone

I'm thinking of people I haven't seen lately, then wondering who's thinking alone

We all want a place where we don't have to prove we're deserving of somewhere called home

But we build all these walls to protect what we have, then complain that we live on our own

 

No bracket, I'm just trying to see where I land

Been writing all these verses, trying to understand who I am

Got a lot up on my mind that I can't fit in a song

So I put it in a rhyme and just let the beat run

I ain't worried about the numbers, I got something to say

Been up late with a pen, trying to get it on the page

And if nobody hears it, at least I know it's mine

I just hope they hear the truth somewhere between the lines