God please evict this demon from my property.
My body acknowledges.
The monstrosity
That doesn't make me squat to ***
Gotta be. A formula.
Of probably. Possibly or prophecy.
Its a translation of a paradox
Between what I want
And what God wants for me...
Eventually.
I crumble and his progeny
Has to walk for me.
Chalking out the spot
On sidewalks.
As everybody walks on me....

**** talk sick.
I dont want chocolates.
I dont knoe what you monsters
Want from me