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This is kind of a slam poetry hip hop poem. It has a flow similar to that of a Sage Francis or Atmosphere song. This is for you, big brother.


I remember.
I remember when you were smoking weed in between every class as a teen.
You were what I am.
Running free and playing with fire, dropping acid and being a liar.
You were a kid, I was a child.
Our intentions were exotic, our actions were wild.
We used to rock Nirvana and smoke marijuana, just cruising around.
I miss cruising around.
The days of youth happened chapters ago, and now you’re on to the sequel.
Adulthood, no good. Do you enjoy doing as you should?
Take a look at who ruined this planet.
It wasn’t the kids, it wasn’t our youth.
It was mom and dad and a political group.
Growing up means catching up with what you used to hate.
Don’t trade who you are for a perfect house and a perfect car.
You are not who created you.
What’s next? Will you get on your knees and pray?
Will you become what you despised yesterday?
I can only hope for this phase of responsibility to pass.
Be the brother you used to be.
If you take another hit of reality, don’t bother passing it to me.
I don’t smoke.