Back about ten,
I hit rock bottom then.
I was down,
face in the ground.
Couldn't get any lower,
drown any slower.

I had to regroup,
get out of the chicken coup,
or end up chicken soup.
Life was pretty bad,
not to mention sad.
Hardly anyone knew,
I gave no clue.

It was at the bottom,
that I found the top,
then all the bull
came to a stop.
I became the man writing,
my totality started uniting.

Bring your big gun,
shoot me down,
never again will I
hit the ground.
Dislike or hate my word,
I will be heard.

It's not all in presentation,
moreso in representation.
Until death do me apart,
up is in my soul and heart.
Nothing in the abyss,
but
the devils butt kiss.

G