A diary of a wimpy Djibril

Dead men tell no tales but this piece has it's sales dead men scream in their graves while acknowledging they're slaves yes,Slaves of there passions and guilt their little castles of love they built they cry behind their marble palace maybe not,they however find solace You see,I belong to that section of people who stare at the mirror's dimension and find peace in the deepest end of my soul ah there it is,a feeling,a fragrance without foul There,in an infinite realities, where it seems goth Dark and eery,perhaps in this world I ain't no moth Maybe in this Reality I'm more of Prince Charming Lovable,An influencer,a love celebrity or something Maybe in this world,I don't run out of your love or maybe,all I got to do is to have you in my heart and In my mind and in my arms I May be lucky to have you in my undeniable charms