Face without personality.
Blank as Eternity.
The only creativity comes from other sources.
Devoid of rationality; only follows what others say and do.  
Offended over the truth, so instead denies it.
Makes me wonder if A.I. has truly taken over?

Hands clasped buried beneath the rubble.
Love has run cold.
Faces flushed with dried tears.
Flags burned to match everything else.
Cries muffled by bombs and gunshots.

These are dark days Indeed.
Perhaps death is the only time we are truly free.
Free from the pain inflicted by those so insane.
Everyone is either starved of food or from humanity.
War sure is a terrible thing

The dissolution of the mind,
Bodies burning, left behind.
All may be human,
But none are kind!
Such sickness, we’re wicked.
Taste the apathy of the afflicted.
Such terror, we’re all addicted.
Taste the melancholy, of the anointed.
The degradation of our kind,
Beds are burning, we’ve lost our minds.
All may be human,
But none are kind!

But we don’t want to hear it,
Even though we can all ******* feel it.
Seeping through our spines.
Bodies burdened with hallowed eyes.
Blinded from staring too long at the sky!
Thinking God will tell us why?
But we don’t want to hear it,
Even though we can all ******* feel it.

The decomposition of morality,
Bombs are ticking, forsaking the gospel.
All may be human,
But none are kind!
Such hypocrisy, we’re wicked.
Taste the poison of uniformity.
Such vanity, yet we’re all afflicted.
Taste the irony of neutrality.
The degeneration of our sanity.
Right is wrong, woe our blasphemy.
All may be human,
But none are kind!

But we don’t want to hear it,
Even though we can all ******* feel it.
Seeping through our spines.
Bodies burdened with hallowed eyes.
Blinded from staring too long at the sky!
Thinking God will tell us why?
But we don’t want to hear it,
Even though we can all ******* feel it.

The flask was built to crack.
We can’t unlight the match.
When War is on our backs.
Many are too blind & many won't last.
Silenced by cruel jokes;
Built to mask.
Built to distract.
Until we wallow within the decay.
That we have made.
Such a shame, such a shame!

The garish skies echoes in wallows.
The varnish was tarnished & stripped;
Like a spear in a hip.
The blood combined with tears;
Humanity sure is a hard pill to swallow.

The Torch is dimmed;
A reflection of our souls….
So, numbed!
By the freedom of fools.
Too busy staring at the sun.
Come along with me,
Into the black hole!
We were built to be controlled.
We were built to succumb.
Until we wallow within the decay.
That we have made.
Such a shame, such a shame!

The garish skies echoes in wallows.
The varnish was tarnished & stripped;
Like a spear in a hip.
The blood combined with tears;
Humanity sure is a hard pill to swallow.

Trauma reverberates inside Mommy's stomach.
Sadness, depression, suicide ingrained;
All of it invisible to the public.
Never been a fan of soap opera’s cause in my life all I've seen is drama.
Shutting down everytime I hear a yell, you can tell by the way my eyes dilate.
Sometimes I struggle to find the strength.
When all the ones I've loved have died as of late.
Tell you that I'm fine, after all whats another lie?
Must be all these night terrors I've been having, that got me literally lying awake!
They say practice makes perfect, that's the till of the tape.
But at least I can say, I understand whats eating Gilberts grapes.
Cause its eating away at me too.
Tangled up in the web of trauma, that I can't fully undo.
Get over it? Huh, wish it was that easy for me as it is for you dude!

Trauma reverberates inside mommy’s stomach.
Abandoned, broken, deemed insane;
All of it invisible to the public.
But for her its just another day as a single momma.
Isolating many times even away from family.
Which caused some to be irrate, forgetting that she just endured a tragedy.
Sometimes she struggled to find the strength.
To make enough money, sometimes she even went hungry.
To make sure that food went in her son’s tummy.
Swearing that nothings better than instant noodles, mac and cheese or soups all so chunky.
Tell everyone that she’s fine, after all whats another lie?
That will be forgiven after church on Sunday.
They say practice makes perfect, that's the till of the tape.
At least I grew up knowing that I wasn't a mistake.
Yet there are still some aches I can't seem to break.
Which got me wondering what will it take?
To get through these birthing pains?

Let me tell you a story.
A story of hurt, pain and eventual healing.

Once upon a time, there was a boy as joyous as could be.
A boy once described as a gentle giant.
Who had big dreams and aspirations for the future.
A boy happy and proud of being their authentic self.
Was taught about the importance of culture and the sacrifices of his ancestors.
Was taught the truth about our shared history; a truth that would soon be undermined, rejected and punished.
Where innocence died and his colour became villainized.
The day he  first went outside his house.
The day that pride and happiness shattered and reality became tattered.
The day his heart became bruised and battered.
Where the gentle giant became an angry monster like the Incredible Hulk.
Except for the part where he felt anything but incredible.
Humans sure can be cruel.
Illusions of difference kept up by oppressive rules.
And those unable to see beyond it, truly are the biggest fools.
Blind truly lead the blind, for real.
Some call it cynical, some call it political, yet many ignore the pain it yield’s.
But unlike bread for many like this boy it’s hard to rise.
Hard to overcome all the factors that keep many sidelined.
Left to pretend everything’s fine.
When it’s obviously not.
Healing is hard; it takes time.
Especially when many of your friends die.
Believing in the lie’s.
Who’s to blame?
Perhaps everyone is.
Which got many like the little boy wondering?
Are we monsters by choice or by circumstance?
Perhaps both?
Perhaps neither?
All I know is many are hurting.
All I know is people are crying.
Which makes the little boy wonder?
How many tears are enough to create change?
How many deaths does it take to create change?
All the boy knows is he’s alive and has overcame.
All he knows is that it took years to heal, and understand that he isn’t insane.
Or some monster that needs to be tamed.
He knows that he may be indigenous, but he’s human all the same.
And he hopes he can help others like him someday.

I started out the bottom, unlike that ****** drake.
I never seen a biracial rapper try so hard not even logic can take that cake.
Bro got merked by Pusha, then got merked by Kendrick; that ain’t even up to no debate.
Call that a double homicide, but there ain’t gonna be no roses for some jail bate!
Man, Chat gpt working more overtime than your efforts to increase the populations birth rate.
Got R Kelly jr over here; hold up, wait… where’s the police?
Perhaps them goofy goobers can’t handle the heat?
Of them, 81’s grovelling beneath a CP’s feet.
****, I’d never thought I’d see the day when gangs went against their own beliefs.
Money over everything, corrupting everybody from thugs to priests.
But at least it’s got everyone distracted, keeping their eyes off the Middle East.
Tell when I start telling lies? Only then will I take a seat!
Pa pa pa pow, rest in peace!
Pa pa pa pow, rest in peace!
**** this ****!
Bring the lyricism back; I ain’t here to make no twerking songs.
You best know Classy J grew up on that real ****, like those Shady, Biggie and Tupac songs!
I don’t have beef with ya unless you're Drake or the Diddler; we’ll probably get along.
This is usually the part I’d tell them to **** my ****.
But I know the thought of it would get them perverts salivating like some dog.
Ra, ra, ra ruff, ruff! Am I wrong?
Ra, ra, Ra, ruff, ruff! I ain't wrong!
Okay, okay, okay, for real, though.
I ain't claim to be no hero!
I ain't no villain either; I'm more like Malcolm, man; I'm something in the middle!
And these rhymes help me stay in remission,
So, that I always keep **** level.
For real, I gotta keep working to block out the lies of the devil!
Which was formed by trauma since I was very little.
Even before that, the pain was literally ingrained in my people's genomes!
A legacy of death that will take a couple of generations to heal.
Yet some still believe that it ain't no big deal or if it was even real.
The fact is, humanities ****, and we’ll eventually clog our own wheel.
Tell when I start telling lies? Only then will I take a seat!
This is my classy interlude *****; class is in session; take a seat!