Lost and lethargic after the argument that brought no compromise, only false words of rectification….more lies.
No understanding of request…. others observe spreading of un-glorifiable disarray.
This is not May and I will not sway into the bent intuition of unrighteous disposition and corrupted vision of what stands before thee.
This is not June so there for I refuse to be your fool because the things you do have added up to overwhelming multitudes.
So now, I shake it off to wake and not take blame for your mistakes
of being… fake.
Written by James Brown
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem