Mood

Dark clouds over my head
Pondering all the things that I’ve said
All the progress I’ve made with Tolle
Are out the window, I don’t feel Holy

Logic suggests its time to meet mum
But my ego is hurt, I’d rather some rum
When we argue it’s backward steps
Like scuff marks, on your new kreps
Just when it’s time to progress
I have to be tactical, like in chess

I put on some Kendrick to ease my troubles
Hoping that we ain’t one of those couples
Bitch don’t kill me vibe is on repeat
As I walk up and down my windy street

I want to be sure before the meeting occurs
But time has to pass without any slurs
Taking things slower, than in the past
Remembering the hurt that was once cast

We’ve hardly seen each other in the past 2 weeks
I do miss her beauty, especially those cheeks
I am seeing her tonight to make a mends
Hoping that we can stay best friends