Feeling lost has been a familiar feeling.
So much so,
Anxiety becomes inert,
Even if you believe you’re exhaustively reeling.
Those nerves become numb the more your mind goes blank.
Like pieces of paper resting soundly til they feel every scratch,
From a pen your entire soul has been imprisoned in…

Derivative of Sin.
You’ll notice through a rhythm in a kid,
Being rapped through a vision with a ting,
Of Red,
In a set of pupils looking for a Win,
A minute with,
A drink he set aside for the winter winds,
Breathing life into his Abyss…
Made by the anger he vows to rid again.
By riddling the Sirens trying to rise and sing again…
For my attention…

Angels crawl in fear,
As God bangs on my walls while I blow smoke underneath my chandeliers.
They don’t understand how my wings and pair of horns go together,
While I’m here.
On this Earth,
Where we trick other for some pennies we adhere,
Our minds to,
While glued,
To the piers.
Where kids are pressured till they come to tears…

Not sure of themselves while sitting by the ocean,
They’ve poured in,
In a trove deep in a shining chest full of gold,
All that money goes in-,
To the palms of a dealer folding,
Their hand with another dime by the double.
Dimes by the double…

What does that matter during times like these?
Drugs became the answer for many while fighting,
All the Fear embedded in our minds by America lying,
To their people from the moment of inception…
Tricked us into lucid dreaming for some fame,
Everyday we wake from a such a land,
Of anybody trying to understand,
The much bigger picture at hand…

I just find it funny how we’re in this gated community.
Full of bills while we search for Dollar signs for immunity.
Sick of being poor and being put under scrutiny.
We incriminate ourselves for some white.
Rely on presidents handled by the Puppet Master who is neither black or white under lights…
Into thinking any politician has your back while spending all your tax money out of spite.
Diverting your attention to the bling!,
Promising a soul desperate to see a different life.
Listening to rappers who were giving drugs,
Now addicted on their own supply.
While War brews in the mean time…

“A virus where people feel well enough to travel while infected.”
“We must prepare for it the same way we lace our boots for War…”
Was the message.
Many walk in fear,
Too afraid to hit the club and act festive.
Bills piling up,
Piling up,
Piling up!
Too broke to even spend it.
Markets running out of what we need from our checklist…
Throwing up fists for some tissues,
Even water,
Is the preference…
Just imagine at the end of this Quarantine when we’re hungry as we’re left in,
The Cage we made when we were all shown the truth and decided not to accept it…

To be continued…

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