Death of Mr. Lowman

I’m trapped in another man’s bodyforced to watch us wither awayin this world’s warped reality.We sleepwalk, wandering aimlesslylike a zombie.We’re chained by our heart,these shackles weigh heavy on our dreams.His face is filled with anger because of my desperate screams.It sickens me that he forces himself to smileto make you happy.

He’s a poet that can not write.I pick up the pen at nightin an attempt to break freehoping that I can escape this shell of a manand fly away in the form of poetry.But his cares are too heavy andmy wings are soaked in his sorrow.Bogged down by his insecurities and fears of tomorrow.I’m trapped in his tortured soulon a battle field of a warover what he knows and what he’s been told.

He was once different,before he started listening to high class foolsletting them tell him what he can and can not do,how he should talk and the way he should walk.I’m so sick of his public relationships, and being trapped in a corporate mentality that only confuses him and rips the two of us apart.Now he staggers like a drunk down a path that leads nowhere cuz he’s afraid to follow our heart.

It hurts me to see him like this.On his kneesbrokenin pieces barely breathing

I’mma put him out of his miseryso we can fulfill our Destiny.I’m taking control-say hello to the real me.Now watch me as I kill youwith my creativity.