God has tested me again,
But I'm tossed in a den
Once again
This broken pen
No longer writes and when
I feel broken inside there's no expression
For this constant compression
Or loose depression
There's this looming tension
And I can't figure it out
And I'm starting to doubt
That this is the same route
I promised to keep myself whole
If you lie to me I'll blow a fucking hole
In your chest and watch you lose your soul
Too violent I presume
But I consume
Drugs until I'm no longer alone
I smell cologne
It's not mine so I don't condone
I wonder how a 50 cal looks going through your dome
I'm locked away in a dusty home
I can't really pick up the phone
I'm busy burying that carcass
I'm cutting your arcus
And leaving a hot mess
But do not test me
Ill use his body as fucking mannequin
I can still hear his family panickin'
Nobody's taking the place I'm standin' in
I'm tired of the fucking shenanigans
Fuck the time limit placed on my head
I wished I was dead
But ultimately no tear is shed
I'm still cleaning the fucking bed
It's filled with blood stains as I led
His body into the trunk of my car
I didn't promise he wouldn't go far
But I'm taking this too far
My body count is still on par
I'm talking pussy not bodies
Blowing backs out like the Saudi's
Shooting up international lobbies
I'm deathly sick
Clean up my dick
You fucking Spic
Born from an inbred hick
Look the body started to twitch
Rigor Mortis is a bitch
Lemme unload this useless prick into the ditch
Don't you fuckin' snitch
I'm done with this murder confession
I'm the one asking the question
I have this unnerving aggression
So your next words better be truthful or I'll kill us all in a quick succession
YOU ARE READING
Dreams Over Reality
PoetryA compliation of poems and skits. The skits are no longer being continued. Most poems are about me and the events around me. Read my story This is my story.
