| 
			
			
			
			 The Paragraph President 
			
		
			
				
			
			
								
		
	 | 
	
	
		
		 IP: 
 
  		
		
		Livin with stressin, a blessin to be honored by fate 
At least I had chances, frustrated when I’d try hate 
Proceedin with caution, protected my feedin passion 
My sentence left empty, petrified by bleedin fashion 
Donated with intoxicated organs of human particles 
Pronounced a problem, profound from news articles 
Give me just one moment, or seconds to taste a flavor 
Predictin shame, & conflictin fame, too waste a favor 
My sins captured, dissolved by all the abusive people 
And I’m defined wrong, so I’m known horribly lethal 
Tragically thrown, magically blown over the facts 
So they understand my sin, and complete my tasks 
		
	
		
		
		
		
			
		
		
		
		
	
	 |