The Truth About Reality

If the truth hurts, then reality’s a murderer.
Life’s a bitch; you can’t believe a word from her.
She’ll take everything you own like a burglar;
There’s no converting her.
She’ll spur you to drink; please disperse from the liquor sir.
Shots of gin back to back and now your world’s a blur.
One too many down the hatch;
Here’s where your verbal slurs.
It’s the worst when your words converge.
I grow concerned as verbs merge without clarity, but plentiful in mirth.
One can only pray for a sober surge to stop the hurt.
Trust me, it’s worth the purge.
Yet you urge to be observed as your thoughts occur.
It's absurd how many were quick to concur.
I guess your actions are felt - like Ray Charles’ furniture.
See this verse is for the amateur’s, oh so oblivious to the flash of cameras.
The one’s who couldn’t depict what glamor was, because they’re stuck in a world far from glamorous.
Thus, it’s ridiculous, how nothing’s enough.
Material items keep you bounded like fisti-cuffs.
The real world is corrupt, and it’s hard too adjust.
There's not enough hands to conduct this puppet show in which we grew up.
But for those who are neglecting such, I’m calling your bluff.
The only reason I proceed to write this stuff, is because I can’t ‘afford’ for my brain to erupt
Am I making ‘sense’ ? (cents)
Sometimes I ramble, and it’s hard to maintain ‘present’ tense
I have a ‘gift-rappin’ (wrapping), and it’s how I vent.
Mastered English; I should start writing in French.
Now let us evaluate the concept of the youth at its best.
See, even with the ice on their necks and rocks in their ears, they sit alone at night and fight tears.
Slam their eyes shut and pray their feelings disappear.
They've been at it for years! Let us be sincere.
As a society we don't find it weird, that half our population lives in constant fear?
We're blind when they thrust their heads under pillows, while gasping for air.
In hope to end reality, and all that remains there.
They just wish that someone cared, and would attempt to repair all the wounds they adhere.
They're forever unable to chase dreams, because they're always running from nightmares.
You see, I know all about these feelings they neglect to share.
The truth is, my name's Reality, and I’m always aware.