MC PINACLE’s Verse

Even at this young age, the child’s future is known not to prosper/
Drifting silently throughout the mall, accompanied by scurrying shoppers/
Young child of God, this child is without shelter, traveling alone/
Her mother scans cloths while her brothers devour ice cream cones/
All said, what’s the trouble with what I mentioned, its irrelevant/
But the vomiting and headaches are not Heaven-sent/
The peril of life’s misfortunes have sought out and grasp/
Another content victim to not last, to aid the Devil’s task/
A suspicious being in a trench coat, burn marks, struck throat/
Abducts the child in a formal procedure, the audience doesn’t take note/
Of the event that just took place, that man departed without revealing his face/
Never displaying his haste, though records show, he’s been the oppressor of rapes/
He easily escapes...moments unfold, what has happened has grown old/
The little girl eventually discovered, mutilated, naked, body has been cold/
The show is over, mother in a thriving panic, shrieking hatred to customers in Hispanic/
She harpoons her sons like the ice-burg hit the titanic, her mentality left stranded/
Cause and effect, the mother, drug-addict, angry thoughts static, commits it fatal/
Wears, “Distraught” as a label, found three days later in a closet, choked with a cable/
Sons, old enough to move on, grow on, decide life is too short and they stay strong/
But either way, the turn of events is a deep plunge, one brother does heroine, other takes a lunge/
At a gang member, Early December, an important date approaching, thinking he remembers/
Bought his sister some roses and a doll, but before he sends her, his bottom legs get dismembered/
Clutching roses and a porcelain painted figure, requiring more work for the cemetery gravedigger/
The thoughts of deceased families in the minds of relatives, memories linger/
We as a unity have no resilience and portray poor assistance to the faint of heart/
We traveled like wolves, dog for dog, but for the needy we never will embark/
God had mistaken our trust, born with flaws we snatched that opportunity/
To improve the ways of life, but instead we discovered the blood’s burgundy/
SMC and I, both understanding individuals, we’re telling a story, not to entertain you/
Not to complain to you, not to disdain with you, but we speak elaborate to explain to you/
That inner thoughts surface only to provoke, painter’s pictures, detailed with every stroke/
Persist to cope with the realness we soak through your mental, so I give the mic to SMC, I suppose…

__________________
MC Murdera'

(RB's "ill" MCs)


Otherwise known as Artikulate