A little topic rhyme...exploring the mind of the living damned to damn.


Frantic fanatics,
handing a savage lives wrapped in the plastic,
dragging the caskets out of dirt
in a shrouded shirt, as mounting nerves
drive this maniac to slay a cat innocent,
pillaging women and witnessing children
while seeking the sickest of wisdom,
His killings are mixed with
techniques derived from a militant system
and innate evil taught after when he was christened...
He stalks in the night, with the sharpest of knives,
the darkness incites him to rape an elderly and carve the insides
to fashion walls, the type to run up on you in a bathroom stall
when you have to pour then with one slash he's gone,
over sanity he's at a point where gorging cavities
is a bloodlust that'll grant him entrance to a soulless canopy,
what has to be the reason for you to die is never suicide,
you'll see a flow after your blood spews from eyes
as he laughs at it when it's one big metaphor to him,
it's no coincidence when you see red on all his Timbs,
Heaven’s assaulting him
with exorcism while devils are calling him,
the face of an angel but the motive of death is all in him,
psychologists rule it out to when he was all of ten,
when priests raped him tearing his rectum at morbid Inns,
on numerous occasions, now whatever is human is vacant,
given smile & charities you never knew he’d choose satan,
to command his path,
our perception thrown by his brand new Jag,
he’d grab a rag to wipe blood from his bandaged shaft,
Painting a picture of past memories,
escaping the fixture that had offended he,
enemies had figures he figured his dad’s never seen,
it was vile redemption that was kept in the Hearsts,
as he thought “I’d get to them before he gets to them first”,
which led to his worst hunger and unquenchable thirst,
which stemmed from many eves he was bent in a church,
in the name of messiah,
a sire who’d never approve getting him hurt,
yet blood & tears dripped down his legs before wetting the turf,
Today, he went in a search,
to find his spirit, he found it & with his identity purged,
He went to the cop’s precinct thinking to them he would turn,
himself in, repent for sins but vengeance in turn
took the hearts of two cops and then he was murked,
He bled on the curtains with his leaking head in the dirt,
his memories squirted out as he died thinking “why was I sent to the earth?’
so how does a couple’s fetus who became whole as a mold,
wind up with a hole in his soul and then a hole in his dome?
It’s simple really, the globe is just cold,
Our demise was created by us, it was foretold in the scrolls…

....Omg

u didnt get replies , cause this was too long dawg , , i only read 6 lines ,, , and they were really tight

Your way of rhyming is tight. It had a nice flow that just kept in motion unless an idea was completed. Sometimes you rhyme too much IMO....Nice tho, I really liked this piece.

I kno its long, but its worth the read..

uppin

Upz

hay this rhyme is tight i like ye

Cut it back a little, it was tight, but flow was a problem, plus I love anything that has Madman in it, it's a start.

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TIght shit.......fuck them Haters.......it wus worth Reading

Nice contend...i could picture it....lol

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A Tight rhyme..

THIS SHIT HIT HARD TWIN I LIKED IT ALOT

word..thanks

this was better....nice flow, nice multis, strong structure, impressive vocabulary...decent content

good verse

Saladin...I like tha new you...Keep it up...Salaam.