He use to take pictures of grasshoppers, flowing streams and ladybugs

He was a precious soul

Taking in the breath of nature

Bathing in the rain

But he got caught up in the fast life

Partying with beautiful models, alcohol and wild nights

With no end in sight

Walking, talking vanity,

Never looking for something more

No questioning why he exists

He can only reminiscence

Evil pours like lava from shallow lips

How much money you making?

Sex sells, don’t worry about your soul

Or compromising for a few bucks

Push out your breast, suck in your stomach

Poke out your butt

He’s says, he’s moving with no regrets

Eager to chase after the popularity he never had

Hanging out with people that are only after what he has

But they won’t be around when good times turn bad

A good boy, turned wicked man

Brokenness lies in the wake

Unmoved by hope

Discouraged by faith

Torn between being kind or living as a snake

Never understanding what has been lost…

Until it’s too late…

Till next time, Ayesha