Indigo child slender, black & mild; thoughts going wild, pulled a cloud from the sky. Made my son a nimbus for his seven months, living in confusion for several months, couldn't outpace the flame but several blunts make me face the pain with a smile. Vingle says I'm getting popular and I doubt that, have to think about what to write next, force my pen to bleed my life down in text. Never wonder why the verses have no context, feeling like most my life had been a contest. I'll never stress BE at my best, prepared for conquest.