Kindsoldaat

Big portions, loud goals, and the belief that discipline isn't a line item on a schedule, but a way of life. Everything here is a reminder of how much work each second costs, from the smell of morning sausages to the shine of the watch I bought not to show off, but to remind me. A world where the word "diet" coexists with "grind," and the joke about "I'm going to get fat again" sounds almost like a mantra of self-acceptance. Thru the bravado and lines about brands and bars, something very human emerges - weariness, a dream of peace, a promise to oneself to return home, even if it's in the morning, but with a result. Street poetry over a beat, where every "that's enough" isn't the end, but just a breather before the next round.