Freestyle Challenge... for writers only... Will you write?

The motherless child knows…

Life is real…too real

Born with no name

In this invisible game

Mixed from black cream

Nightmarish dream

Fatherless and tossed

As a ghetto rock costs

Smoked up at birth

Knowing that no worth

Of loveless nights turned tragic

Can bring back true magic

Meanwhile, haunting the night

Ghost showers rain hellfire

On this heartless child, as

A smile of paisley, darts

From crack creased lips

Pressed to a wildflower

Tasting, for what will never be

Life is Real,

an Invisible Game,

Know That,

True Magic is

far from Ghetto Rock

Ghost Showers

the Motherless Child

with Paisley Darts and Black Cream

bringing forth a Wildflower

True Magic is an Invisible game in real life,

Wildflowers draw darts into the night sky,

while the rocks in and around the ghetto

witness the motherless child that knows all to well

where the darts grow close to the paisley

cream ...that always goes black with fear and loneliness.

Ghetto Rocks in true magic

with paisley darts

in the eyes of a motherless child

Know that

life is real

It's not an invisible game

of wildflowers seeped

with black cream

under ghostly showers

Oh life is so real

if only you could instill

it is no invisible game

and know that there should be no shame

do you have true magic?

is having ghetto rock tragic?

being a motherless child styled

into a wildflower

that turns old black cream into power

so throw your paisley darts

and help other hearts

obviously could have spent more time, but metaphorically it makes sense

Life is real and beautiful

Don't you know that?

Like an invisible game of tag,

True magic, makes the ghetto rock.

But no static,

Just ghost showers pouring love

On the motherless child,

Sitting in the park throwing paisley darts.

Under a moon covered in black cream

Smelling a wildflower.

This is the invisible game I play

Every day.

I can see them but they can never see me

doomed to this earth, bound as it be

this is the invisible game I play

Maybe it isn't such an unfair sentence

or maybe I was wrongly accused

but when I lived

I was used

and I sit and watch and laugh and cry

as the whole, entire world

roles by.

and I sit and live as only ghosts can.

this is the invisible game I play

targets to date to pass seems see you later in the past that i grew to become into turning out to be up yet am i grown yet pushing the 30 questioning i could like a house yet some could like a roof from the rain the reality is purely strained identity run yet nevertheless i take a seat not worth it wasnt like this as a baby all lively each and daily like not something had mattered yet now strikes take judgements wait and you will capture a kickin and get trod on left and forgotten because of the fact the backside needs the astounding rung and the tops already have been given some tight grip on the sport clench fist to the recommendations because of the fact the liquor hits the comparable previous empty spot what you desire what you sought targets dreamt yet not something seems to have meant lots out of touch waiting for woman success and love is purely a game for loopy ***** on a daily basis caught interior the monotony stressful circumstances and calendars scratch yet another time without work desirous to gets a commission lots now waiting for that time without work attempting to maintain a job by uncertainty its worth to be worldly or so it form of feels to sleep maybe a dream

black cream spread across

the face of this motherless child

ghost showers of paisley darts are felt

as he listens to ghetto rock

a wildflower in bloom

showing that life is real

though an invisible game

is nonetheless true magic