ELI

(I wasn't sure how else to get this to you...) What ever happened, happened. That is not for me to know. I am not here to judge you. I have zero ties to you personally so I can't comment on your personal life. I can only comment on how you relate to me through your music and your writing. I love all of the many talents that you possess. God blessed you to the max and he's still blessing you I can tell. These last couple of days have been hell for me because I know you're under so much pressure, and I hate to hear about you like this and I hate that you can't even record music because you're in this state. Americans on social media can be so cruel, evil-spirited, Ill-mannered and sick-minded and really all we can do is pray for their souls and their lives because obviously they're hurting deep down somewhere based on the judgements they pass. I apologize on behalf of the many heartless jerks who have bashed you and attempted to kill you (literally). Suicide...

We are undeserving... You obliged, and though you were hurting, Took a beating, they did you dirty. Crown of thorns, asked if you were thirsty. Sour wine on a sponge… You refused, you died thirsty. The point is, you died: for me, so unworthy. Mary, your mother was watching – cryin’. There was nothing she could do, except watch you die. The place of the skulls – where you was exiled, With your cross bore on your shoulder, They laughed, they just wanted your existence exed out. They really should’ve treated you like a guest, gave you the guest house. But, that night was far from ‘perfect’, These people wanted you etched out. They nailed you to the cross – had you up there, stretched out. “Save yourself” they tried to stress, But you wasn’t even stressed out. They played dice games, gambled for your clothes, Laughed while you bled out; Through your side – pierced a hole. And watched as you said your final words, Last sen...

He’s not suicidal. He’s just;             Undesirable,             Un-admirable,             Feeling lonely. Lately the lack of friends he has, has him second guessing his popularity, Or lack thereof. Never dated, never had sex, never even kissed a girl. He has this fear of dogs that – if it got out would humiliate him. He’s feeling like an outcast… His such a big-boy, but he lives in his mommas’ basement. All he does is write poems, and record them on his phone, He’s even too lazy to go to the studio. Working his little 8 to 2 every day and he hates it too, He just never wants to say. He’s trying to do the right thing – But he is not spike lee. He has this little pipe dream: “make a million, quit his job, and move to LA.” But we know how far-fetched that seems. He wants to live...