POETRY

-Fresh 2 Death-

Once lived a man nicknamed Fresh,
Fresh 2 death dressed to impress,
Setting trends none the less.
Breakin necks wit the clothes he posses.

Fresh’s swagg was praised wit originality,
His haters became his casualities,
Dey followed his style as a faculity.

People wanted to be just lk Fresh,
Walk his every step,
Take his every breath,
Guess they were tired of losin’ their breath,
Cuz it was taken away,
The way he would walk with a sway,
N smooth wit the lines he’d lay.

Little did they know Fresh,
Fresh was possessed,
By his closet.

Filled wit sneakers, clothes, n accessories,
They became his extasy,
Like a junkie…I need the drugs next to me,
Like a sex addict…I need the lady sexually.

See Fresh was insecure,
About his flaws,
How if ppl saw them, they wouldn’t want him anymore,
He’d just be kicked out the door.

Fresh uses the clothes to build self esteem,
People’s reactions becomes his weed,
So he cops the “new new” persistently,
Just to see.

What people want but cannot buy,

The definition of fly,
That word that keeps him abide.

To his lifestyle,
How the clothes made the man,
Just a walking billboard…
For his drug to live on and infest.

Later On….
In his old age,
Fresh 2 Death went deaf,
From overdosing on all the products that he had left.

He walked around not knowing oral responses of the people,
Went crazy for the rest of his life, n jumped off a steeple.

In the afterlife there was nothin’ but him wit no cover, no shield…

Wealth is of the Heart and Mind,
Not of the Pocket…….
Keep these words close,
As if the love in your locket.

Poem By: Malcolm Amey; Junior at Loughlin