TIME by JOVON SCOTT
It feels like I can’t breathe being isolated from society,
despite my sobriety of being sober from sidewalks and stop signs.
Seeing cars pass me by as years fade in crimson shades.
Time evades like ticking clocks,
seconds morphed into a thousand days.
I watched myself watch myself,
through broken mirrors and foggy perceptions.
Dying to find myself,
knowing I’m divine in self.
Lost wealth in hidden books on forgotten shelves.
Waiting on my moment, waiting on my moment.
I said I’m waiting on my moment
as if my freedom means anything to the free world.
The spoils and riches defined by inches as I grasp my sanity,
exposed to bridges of vanity,
profound words of profanity.
Taught not to give a fuck,
as luck have it I never gave a shit.
Defined by crimes I was convicted as forgotten,
thrown into a cell like…
Nigger or nigga, you know what the fuck going on,
Being trapped, confined in a cycle of bars and cop cars
with flashing lights, lights so bright.
They blind the blurred lines that entangle minds to think alike.
Jobless homes and fatherless thrones where princes often land,
enslaved in chains far from home.
Detached my sense from pain and grief,
for lies and blood filled streets.
I fell from grace, landed in isolation.
I live for time, I lone for time,
and define myself as a man who’s trapped in time.