Crit for Crit

This is a rap/Jam poetry type song I just wrote tonite. I put it on here mainly to try to re-write it out and try to find a better flow, which is what I'm looking for help with mainly. This stemmed from a conversation i had with a friend about life at our stage in it. ( high school seniors/college freshman.) I don't usually write raps, but for some reason this just seemed to flow out of me as a rap so i decided to not fight the feeling and just let it be a rap. It is extremely long, so i genuinely thank anyone who takes the time to read it all.

I wish that I, had more time,
To think about the things I have just begun to realize,
All the people around me are carrying out their plans, they've been plotting them out for years,
And I'm just starting to realize now what i should have realized back then.
And although this life has been my reality for many years,
I am starting to see that all beginnings must have an end,
I have the strength, to work my self to where i want to be,
but i keep asking myself what kind of life,
would really work out best for me?
And at the end of the day, that question's still on my mind
And the answer doesn't seem to be lying in plain sight, my minds eye,
has been blinded for the past five years of my life,
And only now is it becoming accustomed to the light,
And now I'm seeing outlines, of all these different paths that my life could be taking,
S hit, Plato wasn't faking,
When he wrote about how we are all blind,
Even though we might think, that we are seeing just fine,
Because we are all just prisoners inside of this cave, watching the shadows on the wall, thinking we've got it all straight,
And when we finally rise, to the world outside,
and at last grasp all the answers we've been trying to find, we realize,
That we still don't know s hit,
we are just as blind now, as when down in that dark pit, and now i understand this
All the answers will never be, perfectly clear to me,
at one time,
available collectively, for me to see,

i got writers block after that, which sucks because i can feel it about to wrap up.. hopefully i will be able to finish it soon.
Old king cole was a merry old soul, a merry old soul was he.
He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl( ****ing stoner)
and he called information for numbers he could have easily looked up in the phone book.
Last edited by Dumpweedrock at Mar 17, 2008,