Tell me your lying. Tell me this isn't mine. Made a mistake this time. Provoking life with no revoking of reality. To or to not make it a fatality. And actually live with the mentality. Of having a gun on my own flesh and blood. Yet, sensing my own would be done. To take this one of pregnancy. With the irony. Of living a legacy. That is the epitome of the pit of me. And my stupidity. All I am. All I haven't been. What I could of been. Not to be left dead. Killed not by a bullet, but by a blessing. Life is to costly for me. There is no mabey for this baby. This legacy just isn't ready. Nor am I. To die. Of ambition and living. Still itching for a contract. To contract a means of green to be freed. Yet, in the wake of my mistake. I am left with the deed of destroying my seed. Bringing up the burning, yearning of knowing... Positive or Negative?