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Blog poetry

I Can’t Really Explain

No, I won’t go. No, I won’t start. I won’t hit you with these boosted platinum bars.

I won’t cheat you, I can’t rhyme, so now I’m really just waisting my time.

I can rhyme yes, but really am I spelling every word right?

I betchu think I wanna walk up to you and just fight.

But naw, I’m chillin’, and it’s poetry. That’s not the line.

I’ve got to build a better future so that I’ll be fine.

I’ve only entered into the world when everything is new.

Or maybe chances that I take will follow on pursuit,

to days when I should try to make my every single moment right,

or when I couldn’t tell if I could walk or I could fly.

But whose been thinking about the way I rhyme, or spelling errors?

It’s college fool, so when you cross the line I bare the cross yea.

I’m cooler than you think, but its cool, just you think.

And fix my errors, or melody your style, yea choose your fate.

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By Brandon Mecella

I am a Philadelphian, a poet (the greatest alive, of course), and I'm loving what is on T.V.

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