Writing Rises

Writing rises like the power of my voice

when you hear it, you know it’s moist

with the grace of God

listen to what the greatest tells you or you’ll get his lightning rod

writing is my hobby, it’s what I live for

multi-million dollar mission, eventually, I’ll never be poor

my focus is too attuned it’s like magic

most believe it’s tragic

think I care if they call me a savage?

what I know is that soon I’ll be living lavish

my parents will be retired, and children will be eating

what I’m reaping is leaking the blood of every flesh devouring demon

fire in my eyes while scorching the streets

carry heat around me with an impure heart then I must deplete

get rid of you, you’ll be holding onto me for your residuals

visually physical as your brain bleeds out on the concrete; that’s what I call critical

could’ve ended with that 16, but nobody would understand what it means

let me enlighten your mind, showing you my scene

I’ll remain independent until the day of my demise

already called out every action, so nothing will be to my surprise

when I come for your life it’s like a game of charades

can’t be identified cause when you die there will be no parade

just your soul slowly floating above me

as I’m laughing to myself knowing its lovely

I was blessed enough to have never taken a life

don’t test me because I’ll stab you out of your flesh with a butcher knife

cutting you up in pieces with nothing left, but your bloody flesh

what I write is scary, many tell me I should put it to rest

I’m just a peaceful man with a mind of a maniac

schizophrenia is my diagnosis I gave to myself, so there’s no training that

the story I just told you made your heart skip a beat

featured relief is what seats comfortably under my seat

 

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