5800
thats why i write verse: to lift the curse, cause the worst part of this is,
no one really knows who started this kids.
been around for a long while, sending sounds so the song-o-philes
can nod they heads and prod they best friends with a smile
as they mock and jest, so I can test the limits of this gimmick, with my limericks
In a rickety casket slash picnic with no basket
sharpening my sword with my visions on the dragons
I'm having, a tough time tryna write enough rhymes to bust minds
And cuff lies and liars who they trust why, acquire gifts without a quip
Or quotation lifts to folk around with a tired nation?
In a virtual, reality.
Filled with curfews and banality.
I'll verse you, and that'll be the proof that the cavalry's
Behind me,
Guardians of time, we see You.
Watch over us while we end the War,
Which they sleep through.
