"Train of thought"

Wrestling with writers block;

And he's winning.

I haven't written in some months;

Is my brain finished?

Am I all out of thoughts? To process.

The process, of a boy turning man;

I try the best that I can.

My life ain't beachy but it's peachy as I play in the sand.

And kick rocks like I was sitting up in rehab.

But know I'm sitting in the basement like big tigger;

Reflecting on the old rhymes I wrote, I never got to spit out.

When will I, get to, ever, be the greatest like Holyfield or mayweather.

April weather May rain on my Parade but Rest soon comes when June show up and sun is shining on my back as sweat glistens.

"A hard worker"

As some say they'd describe me as.

But shouldn’t the hardest worker get to find time to sit on his ass? And be lazy, at least for a moment?

But then I ask myself "boy ain't this you wanted?"