Still Breathing

They say, “Lighten up, Joe.” I ask them, “Why?”

So you can ignore the truth I scream when I cry?

You hear flows echoing out this mic

I see spirits every fucking night.

Emails from kids clinging on by a thread

“Cut again last night — swear I wanna be dead”

Then they replay my verse instead.

Somehow my voice pulls them back from the edge

You think I care about TikTok fucking trends?

I write with a pen that breaks but still defends.

These aren’t just lines — it’s a lifeline in disguise

Curses passed down scream through these rhymes

Is this too dark for you? Then close your fucking eyes

But don’t preach truth if your whole life’s a lie

I write through silence — raw, and so uninvited

This pain is my mine — no need to fight it

No fame pass, no reel to rewind

Just scars on a soul I’m trying to define

I don’t write for praise

I write when I’m breaking

You hear rhyme

I hear lives shaking

Not for your lists

Not for your charts

These are the wounds

Still carving hearts

We mold the pain

Turn it to art

This is awakening

This is how it starts

This is truth — no edits

This is war — no credits

This is hell I walk through

Survival — not music for just metrics

No theatrics

Rebirth through damage

Pain rewritten

This is how we manage

This girl showed me her stitched slit wrists

“My dad always hits me when he’s drunk,

He only gets mad when I refuse to fuck”.

Her eyes screamed louder than her voice could choose

The rage inside me only grew.

But I just sat listened — I didn’t react

I just Held her close, as she cried

Tried to make her smile, with a big hug in fact.

This mic ain’t all about flex — it’s a voice for the scared

The broken jaded ones gasping for air

I carry a thousand different traumas

Buried them deep into my chest

While still Fighting my own demons, in life’s drama mess

So I talk to God, not for praise or for fame

But asking for mercy and forgiveness

While we live in these fucked-up days

“Woo. Let’s go”

You see a concert show

I see nothing but confessions

Each line & verse I spit

Is like a AK loaded weapon

I don’t write for your praise

I write only when I’m breaking

You hear beats and rhymes

I see and hear about lives that are shaking

This ain’t for accolade lists

Or for your billboard hits

These are the wounds

Still carving hearts

We mold the pain

Then Turn into art

This is awakening

This is how it starts

This is truth — no edits

This is war — no credits

This is hell I walk through

Survival — not music for metrics

You want a hit single?

Yeah, well I want fucking peace.

You want catchy chorus hooks?

I want the violence and wars to cease

You want music platform streams?

While I convince kids they have reasons to breathe

That they got a reason to still believe

To scream without shame

To cry with no blame

To bleed and not hide

To write through the pain

Not polished

Not packaged

It’s ugly

It’s tragic

“But it’s real”