- I am the figment of anticipation. A brainstorm with dense precipitation. Facing this world with a boulder on my back. Never knowing when my back will break. I've survived so far but so far, that hasn't yielded favorable conditions. Just situations of blasphemy, flared at me. Scary that life has degraded itself to the point of poverty of the mind. When will they realize that they need to rewind and mastermind a design of intelligence? Since it looks like it won't happen in my lifetime, I write rhymes to leave my mark. Internal spark that fuels the fire to make a difference. Who would of guessed some would get the signals crossed. Meaning lost and gaining frost. Chilling the heart to a meat brick. So sick and yet you look healthy to others. Guess that is the grand facade. And you do it well. So quick to pick the short end of the stick. When greatness is within your reach but you beseech the designation.
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