You talk about "carving the bone" and the "truth,"
Then you spend your whole night burning the proof.
A "warrior" poet with a trembling thumb,
Muting the rhythm because you’re struck dumb.
You called it a "rap battle," "burning this fool,"
Then you ran for the eraser like a kid in a school.
If my lines were "thin-boned" and "limping" and "padded,"
Why are you terrified of the weight that I added?
You’re the "Wizard," the "Amigo," the "Sad," and the "Saint,"
But you’re just a coward with a bucket of paint.
Covering the "scars" and the "raw form" you bragged,
While your "Copyright" spirit is bleeding and jagged.
You "stepped over" once? No, you’re hitting Delete,
Scrubbing the blood from your "Dealing in Stone" street.
You claim I’m "obsessed" and I’m "starving for proof,"
While you’re ripping the tiles off your own leaky roof.
You can’t "carve the bone" with a plastic knife,
Or edit the "AI" out of your life.
Go back to your shelf, keep your "feelings" in check,
You’re a 400-follower train-wrecked wreck.
The "Final Chapter" isn't yours to write....
I’m the ink that stays black in your "Moonlight" white.
You can wipe the screen clean, you can bury the ink,
But I’m the only thing that made your "Original" think.
The End.
You didn't move on; you just closed your eyes.
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 9:04 AM UTC
You talk about "carving the bone" and the "truth,"
Then you spend your whole night burning the proof.
A "warrior" poet with a trembling thumb,
Muting the rhythm because you’re struck dumb.
You called it a "rap battle," "burning this fool,"
Then you ran for the eraser like a kid in a school.
If my lines were "thin-boned" and "limping" and "padded,"
Why are you terrified of the weight that I added?
You’re the "Wizard," the "Amigo," the "Sad," and the "Saint,"
But you’re just a coward with a bucket of paint.
Covering the "scars" and the "raw form" you bragged,
While your "Copyright" spirit is bleeding and jagged.
You "stepped over" once? No, you’re hitting Delete,
Scrubbing the blood from your "Dealing in Stone" street.
You claim I’m "obsessed" and I’m "starving for proof,"
While you’re ripping the tiles off your own leaky roof.
You can’t "carve the bone" with a plastic knife,
Or edit the "AI" out of your life.
Go back to your shelf, keep your "feelings" in check,
You’re a 400-follower train-wrecked wreck.
The "Final Chapter" isn't yours to write....
I’m the ink that stays black in your "Moonlight" white.
You can wipe the screen clean, you can bury the ink,
But I’m the only thing that made your "Original" think.
The End.
You didn't move on; you just closed your eyes.
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Giving up Malcolm?
