Extra

Oh I'm extra?

I guess that's the zeal,

that flows from every syllable,

that tumbles out of my mouth,

like a landslide,

boulders rolling down the hillsides of silence,

I'm slowly filling with my expression,

leaving my mark on your mind,

like the wind erodes canyons into the earth, Wait, oh right, now I'm "too much."

All you wanted to do was to light up,

and talk about the bitches you get,

and the stacks you have,

But when I bring up anything with relevance,

you cringe in pain,

as if you just stepped into a burning room, feeling the heat from every four syllable word, you can't understand,

getting singed,

from the embers of my subliminal undertones, that fly over your head,

choking on the smoke,

of the cynical sadistic irony,

exploding from the pent up passion,

that was building up,

while you had the audacity,

to walk past a group of women,

painting a mural on a wall,

and belittle them to merely objects for your worthless carnality,

as you shouted, "damn bitch!, you fine!

let me paint your walls,"

but rest assured!

she paid no attention,

like a horse pays no attention to a fly,

but rather swats at it with it's tail,

because it knows,

it's only there,

to eat from the horse's excrement.

Oh... You're tired?

Nah, it's cool, go get some rest,

maybe while you sleep,

you will dream of a little crazy idea,

this "extra" you speak of,

it's what you're missing, extra intelligence,

extra insight, extra compassion,

extra self respect, extra motivation,

and lastly, but not least,

extra humanity.

And when you wake up,

you'll realize,

extra isn't extra at all,

it's just the missing piece,

to your puzzle.