Walking for hours late at night, just to clear my mind,
Times got harder, feeling like life is stuck on repeat, caught in a bind.
These men speak more than women; who cares about gossip,
Determined to make millions off writing, there’s no toss-up.
After conquering the publishing industry, I’m onto the next,
Ideas require money and implementation, completing every quest.
Knowledge, health, family, and dignity money won’t buy,
Greed is a tool used to control the masses to comply.
Scientific, direct, specific, gifted, spiritually lifted,
Hard work turned my life into affluence–physically shifted.
Hate is taught inside this vicious system, signified by a bloody mission;
Teaching people killing each other is a form of sustainable sedition.
Certain individuals hate the process of human creation,
Angry about what the womb produces, they prefer desecration.
The truth stands still, aiding you to climb uphill,
Searching for thrills won’t define the power of your will.
Ninety-five percent of peoples visions are small to me,
Striking down hypocrisy with impenetrable philosophy.
Serving dishes of truth, putting an end to frivolous monotony,
Building every vision steadily and chronologically.
Binders full of poetry, pages full of prose, more blank pages to touch,
Influential in every industry attempted, feeling the rush.
Waking up before the sun rises, getting words written,
Believing in every single one of my predictions.
Black clouds hover, until you decide to eradicate,
You either love the truth or love the energy to fabricate.
The proclivity to publish has me addicted like popping pills,
Focused on targets I create, going in for the kill.
Coming after me only leads to an early grave,
Tackling issues and addressing situations; you’re afraid.
My new life led me to go towards it alone,
Speaking about experiences that helped me sit on the throne.
Strength in every step, courageous until I meet my death,
You won’t truly enjoy life until you cleanup a mess.