Keeping Count

I am the one,
my skills are great,
convince myself
with lines I can relate to
I beat my self in debates yo ;
three rhymes and I set my pen free yo !
Frustrated, I seek myself every 7 twenty four
my skills are alive,
but I am stuck till five;
Am I this? conformist- a working class hero?

six lives, lost faster
I waste the seventh run here
I must master
I wish to free style, the eighth one here,

I’m going in circles, I do not feel that great.

I m on a motorcycle , All I  am drawing is eight ;

My line, does not sound like mine,
every morning I feel suicidal at nine.

wishing I could switch lanes,
wishing I could work my pen, voice this pain to
A  perfect ten
But I am stuck in repeat, like CN on Ben ten
ten lives, I wish I had ten heads,
ten wives, eleven beds; twelve lies – alternate lines,
what do I do? I duel with this,
I wont be free until my heart sings out
A dozen things out !


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