The Last Poet

I’m the last poet to grace the planet, with supernatural, spirituality

Expressing who I am; harboring the illest individuality

The news reports negative nurtured fatalities

Their goals are built on taking the third eye off reality

Dictating the wheather off my poetic grind

Outside of the realm that you define, is where Ladies Prism resides

There isn’t a single entity in my way, the winning team is what I decide

I’m here to stay, enormous appetite, investing in what pays

Addicted to perfection, the dedication is a resurrection

The mirror doesn’t retain your reflection of inspection

I know where I’m destined to go

Sure of myself, I know how to flow

My novels produce neurological harmonies, hitting the cortex

This digital age is real, but don’t get lost in the vortex

Chaos, slander, lies and deception is wicked

I see people suffering from the sickness; deathly inflicted

Most only see me for a time, then I disappear

My mind is set on greatness, conquering every year

Rising above what many expected

Prepared for the absolute worst, cause I’m protected

Keeping me down is impossible, you won’t do it

You missed golden opportunities, I realize you blew it

My feet catch more air than a light sandal

Stop focusing energy on destruction and scandal

Writing empire so impenetrable; its eternally, venerable

Disciplined with the pen like a true general

The greatest to ever grace this profession

Tolstoy told me in my dreams I’m a living blessing

Making others see light they were unaware of completely

A simplistic style, the execution is sophisticated, neatly

Hustling up a dollar, becoming a genuine baller

I didn’t graduate from university, but I’m still a scholar

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