Walking body, talking head, living dead,
questioning everything, like the floor
that civilization stands on. Prospects,
weight and gold, wondering why there’s
no virgins aren’t being sacrificed, angels
and demons wrestle inside. Stand sparks,
rebel with a cause, running with scissors
inside my soul and going to a ghetto
near you. Poetry banging more than street
fame, lyrics leaving one spellbound in
new and profound wisdom. Working towards
my innermost secrets. Shivering. Will I
self-destruct or grow within self-awakening?