silently i suffer and rest
jest not lest you feel the need to meet the best
slowly slaughtered by pests
infest the nest in hopes to slay the demon then digest
but i digress
for the evil in men is set not unto the world by demons
but by men
who fear what they see and hate what they do not know
i weep for those
these tears need not spill for the death of the many
nor of the few
but fall in chaotic motion as often and as subtle
as early morning dew
chosen not by fate but by those who wish to take this mind away to rape
my lyrical innocence is at stake
underrated overstated afflicted affliction of my addiction
pride conflicted with simple fiction tenderly ticking away this tension
i pause to mention
that ever since the prophecies were written
no one cares to even listen