Raw Ink - Indigo

Yeah… Ink talk.

No eraser for this,

nigga.

I’m the type to turn a pen into a prophet when I

jot it, Every sentence got a conscience,

I’m just bottlin’ and pop it.

I been sketchin’ out my demons,

they keep askin’ for closure,

So I fold ‘em into verses,

now my trauma get exposure.

I’m a paradox in motion,

I’m the calm inside the chaos,

Got a halo made of pages,

I been sinnin’ for a payoff.

They said “pick a lane,” I built a highway off the suggestion,

Now my metaphors be speedin’ past the

limit of perception. I treat pain like it’s a language,

I just learned to make it fluent,

Every scar a semicolon,

I just pause it then I grew it.

She said love is kinda reckless,

I said “baby, I’m a scholar,” ‘Cause I studied all my losses

just to turn ‘em into dollars,

nigga.

I’m just writing marginal notes in the margins of my soul,

Double meanings in my sentences,

I’m never lettin’ go.

If you read between the silence,

you might finally see the glow,

I turn pain into a punchline,

then I laugh it off and go,

nigga.

I been riddlin’ in rhythm,

I’m the glitch inside the grammar,

Every stanza got a hammer,

I’m the meaning and the stammer.

Got a pocket full of punchlines and a conscience full of commas,

I been pausin’ all my trauma just to frame it for the

drama. I’m the type to break a sentence just to build it

in reverse, Every blessing got a burden,

every blessing got a curse.

I’m a sermon in a cipher,

I’m a typo in the truth,

I’m the proof inside the question,

I’m the lie inside the proof,

nigga.

She said “why you always distant?” I said “that’s just my perspective,”

I be closer to the ceiling when I’m lower than expected.

I don’t argue with emotions,

I just translate what they echo,

Turn her “maybe” into “definitely,” I’m fluent in the let-go.

If words could bleed,

I’d be a crime scene poet,

Every metaphor a weapon,

but I’m careful not to show it.

I don’t write to be remembered,

I just write to stay existing,

‘Cause silence got a body count and I refuse to be a

victim.

I’m just writing marginal notes in the margins of my soul,

Every line a double meaning that you feel before you know.

If you listen in the quiet,

you might finally lose control,

I turn pain into a punchline… then I let the story go,

nigga.

(hummmm) let the story go.