The night grows wild
and cool,
The stage set, neon
lights gleam,
The setup’s exquisite,
A keyboard, an
acoustic guitar, and some drums,
The crowd’s silent,
quite expectant, but overall numb,
The band humming,
drills running, and their hearts beating,
He comes on slumping
a bit, holding a mic,
Picturesque?
Think again,
He’s brutish in
looks, facial hair unkempt, a deep longing in his eyes,
He doesn’t look at
the crowd, stares into the sky,
Then he motions to the
band, “Play the beat, keep it slow,”
It’s a tune that is
sad, kinda haunting, and dark,
Then he grips at the
mic, then a flow catches on,
Sitting
in the hood and a smile is pricy like a keg,
Thinking
of the past now my heart is dicy like a peg,
Life
is sure hard I could kill for just a taste of cake,
Or
even for a bath, yeah I’d do it even for a bait,
I
know it’s troubling, the price of freedom bringing all this gloom,
Having
peace of mind and doing that while rationing your food,
Looking
for a dream inside a stinky ghetto single room,
And
knowing all you got is just a month before they kick you out,
The beat goes on for
a couple more bars,
Then he drops the
mic and gets off the stage,
I look at the
crowd and see that numbing look transfixed,
But deep inside the lot, I see some people shedding tears,
There isn’t any applause or anyone just sitting and losing their heads,
But out behind the
curtains Ace just sits and stares into space,
I look to see the
pain behind the lyrics he just rapped,
But I can’t find a
hint,
He’s expressionless
and numb,
He looks at his band
and tells ‘em he’ll be out a couple days,
And puts his hoodie
on, headphones on, and walks away,
It’s just another
day inside the murk that’s Ace’s mind.
@Job Kerry
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