The Spirit Is True

Hard to be impressed when you’re elevated past the present plane.
I’m more so pressed by the nerve of anyone trying to stunt my future growth for their own hit of fame.
See,
I don’t care about anything,
Nor,
Anybody politicking over politicians when it’s our heart that’s missing.
I only care about the rhythm I am instilling while ascending past depression,
It’s all a lonely soul wants for a chance to make it into heaven,
Hoping I can meet thy father like I’m Ben Stiller….

Why?
It became apparent how the divine is what allows me to breathe,
It’s what allows me to see,
Eyes aching over truths being displayed in front of me…

Nothing is as true,
As the spirit tattooed,
To the characters we carve out of pain from everything we had to lose!
So,
Go ahead and speak ill of a name given without ever knowing who I was!
Entertaining,
How the fake would even have a conversation with another one of their own while I’m getting paid and,
4.0’s as a man forsaken,
By a bunch of others wearing masks I have no other choice but to face in.
What feels like Broadway play…
As long as I am not a part of any cast,
Broken over broads and pieces of a pie “they’ve” made!
For anyone with a sweet tooth identical to theirs…

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