Mine and your songs

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Do you write songs? if so, what genre do you fall into? I write grime and rap, and im trying to get famous around my estate and that. I spit under the name Volatile, And im starting with clashes. (if you dont know what a clash is, watch 8 mile. its another word for rap battle). i may post some vids to youtube.

Im sick like the swines/im nice like the wines/ you aint loved, sorta like fines/tryin to clash me, your high off the lines/ never mind keep clashin mate keep tryin/ keep telling me your good, keep lyin/

I wrote about 300 or so over the years; but most were rock 'n roll...from about '80-94 or so
90% of them were crap...

nahhh. people tell me i could though.
i guess the poems i write can be sorta lyrical sounding.

like this one.

Falling from your lips/like so many stone birds/attempting to take flight/as such are your empty words/falling on deaf ears/they drop and shatter on the floor/even as you begin to speak/i'm turning, walking towards the door.

or this one

Believe in what you cannot see
Can you conceive the air we breathe?
Each breath is slowly killing me
You know you will too eventually
It’s nothing to laugh at that time destroys all things
While wearing your heart on your sleeves
You’ll find out how much it bleeds
how many dark stains it leaves
How jaded are your memories
That you can’t see the forest for the trees
But I can see the sea, washing steadily over me
I know the tides, your change of sides
You shift on that beach quite nervously
Stepping on sand, your piece of dry land
The only certainty on which you stand
But let’s swim, these depths invite you in
Test your waters, fear isn’t the only common sense
It’s a natural defense, another border fence
Breathe, this air will help you float, but only if you let it
Can you take it? Life has no preserver, you got to make it
It’s all about your motion in this ocean; sink or swim;
Davey Jones waits and you could very well join him
I can see your back, but all you can see is the shore
Walking on water isn’t commonplace these days
It just doesn’t happen anymore
But damn, I swear you swam, half-ran right back over that crest
Your shirt, a useless sail fixed to a heaving chest
Where did your loyalties lie & when did they falter and die?