INTP I - is for introvert, a reserved, solitary soul, Too much time spent in my own head, now this i'm often told, I remember being 8 years old, so wild, I seized the day, Now I'm mild, I envy that child and my passions gone away N - is for intuitive, connections here and there, Unrelated topics begin relating everywhere, I try to share these thoughts out loud but no one seems to care, My words they fall upon deaf ears, it's back to the ground I stare T - it stands for thinker, as opposed to feel, People think we lack emotion but the pain is real, Expressions what we really lack, my face remains unchanged, I prefer to base my weight on logic, I find emotions strange P - is for perceiving, #lifes unorganised, unplanned, I admit that I'm a lazy fuck, all but my right hand, I sit and wonder what #life would be, should I set a date, But fuck that shit I'm happy right here, il leave it down to fate

The Real Providers Salty breath of the oceans spray, Forever breathing, night and day, The land may envy the oceans flow, While the water..well...you know? The wings that cause the bird to lift, Up from the ground were not Gods gift, You see these things, they come from them, The jealous land, the oceans phlegm From tiny 'sects to the now gone 'saurs, I think you'll find 'God' stole the applause, From the real providers, land and sea, The sun, the air, the old oak tree Now I know what your thinking, God made these, The rays, the wind, the old oaks leaves, The big sky daddy made all you know, And he'll strike you down, should you not show.. Love and respect, these he demands, The narcissistic chap even has 10 commands, Break these rules and you know where your going, Fear, not love, is what I'm showing

Pacing Imagine your daughter, son or sister, chained, starving, scared. The familiar sounds of clinking metal, the constant smell of fear. Pacing. Pacing. Pacing. Imagine the lingering stench of burning flesh, The cigarette burns no more, In your nostrils, the smells may die but the pain goes on and on. Pacing. Pacing. Pacing. You look for affection, you find the boot, today will be different. Today will be different. Imagine. Imagine your chosen. Imagine their pain. Their face. Their legs. Their ears. Their fur. Their tail. Oh it's ok it's only a dog...

The Flag Cocoon Mother. The salt of the drop, Son. In the nations box, A poppy grows as the faces fade, The work is done, the path is laid