Photo by Marco López on Unsplash

**August 3, 2019

When the buffalo’s in love, his horn floats the torn.

Hearts of society spread love in a variety.

Fly swatting the deep, quieting the sheep; you people don’t think.

He sings what he believes—thoughts inhaled too deep.

It’s how he breathes—the next move, even he couldn’t relieve.

Your pain and agony to insanity—his character of no one’s bribery.

But a channel inviting the mystic of thee.

Divine IX smacking a crime.

Hell naw, we don’t cry from gate A-5.

Ten years from now would you still be holding my shrine?

I don’t know who hears me; am not crying in fear.

With trust and hope, I don’t know where means come from to continue and bloat.

I miss my girlfriend, yeah yeah, boo hoo…

But we’ve bore it all for our dreams to take off, woo hoo…

You’d miss her too, likely go crazy for not sticking next to you.

But a girl’s gotta do what’s only in a few.

Leave to sustain a better you.

People don’t change, they grow to be a better view.

Into the self of admiring virtues.

Here art thou cry, I’m not hurt away from you.

-Budd