"I am Meshell-
choosing to hide(use)in my shell
all the while resenting where I dwell
perhaps the poem I spit keeps me caught up in this shit
'cause I can never tell if I create or am this hell
I can't claim I'm unique
to play dead when I am weak
and If I pound the wall of loneliness
without fear of what I'll find
can I relax and reach another's hand
or will the coward crawl back inside?"