I collaborated with my twin, Samuel, and we’ve created “Hempathy”. This piece branching from a simple conversation. “Is a secret truly a secret, if everyone knows it, but no one talks about it?“
Shit, all i feel is hempathy, that’s hemp therapy simply
I’m a smoke till I see God and ask him why I feel this way mentally
Signed, yours truly, sincerely hoping that my best wishes are not just farewells to sanity
While I blow Kush smoke in mirrors subconsciously embracing vanity, and talking to myself–
A controlled free spirit trying to think of a purpose, is it worth it?
My heart wants to jump out my chest just so I can put this work in
I start feeling like, “damn do I deserve this?”
Whether I weather the storm, this forecast is my own, this black cloud is only following me
When it rains my cup is filled — half full, tho inside I feel so empty
Success is so tempting!
The weight of the world is on my shoulders and all I feel is sympathy.
Visions of visionaries screaming knowledge from the cemeteries.
In the moment I was being birthed I felt God’s whispers as he spoke to me.
The smoke clears. There’s no longer clarity.
Sitting at the vanity 2 hazed eyes, and the 3rd one so vivid that it scares me.
Cry for help like a newborn left in a bin, or for some brotha without a motha heading straight for the pen,
I cleaned my slate with those tears and headed straight for my pen,
Then walked up to the fountain of youth and threw a couple of pennies in, like, here’s my two cents–
That should pay what you’re worth, delusions of immortality,
I’ve been ready for death since birth,
Realize your lies mean nothing, they say the meek shall inherit the earth.
Knowledge is power, except it feels more like a curse.
I hand out flowers today because I witnessed tomorrow riding in a hearse.
The gangsta’s spray their semis while the kids run for cover.
Sirens are my alarm clock, while I hide under my covers.
A world unprepared for the voices they’ve silenced by fear.
Not me, I am no longer scared.
I have been scarred interacting with the living dead.
Conniving like con-artist, without guidance I walk amongst the blind.
Pick pocketing every thought.
They don’t get me, but at least they aint got me!
They tried snatching my spirit from me out my cradle just to place me in a tomb.
The killers perish with their intentions, but the believers never die from their wounds.
Imagine spending your whole life trying not to cry.
Misery loves company and the world is its companion.
Birthing monstrosities that label themselves as super human beings.
Assassins assassinating, I chose to replace them.
If I were to murder one person, it would be –ME!
Because there is one thing I yearn for most is my body to rest and my soul to be FREE
Only then will the mind solider be at ease.
–Leighrick & Samuel