I have a heart problem,
Throbbing chest pains to go along with agitation and the need to get violent against the bag,
Relax I’m only half sociopath,
Only cold towards those who asked for it,
So I isolate to protect myself from morphing into,
the creature the devil wished he could’ve turned me into,
Warrior insticts summoned by those damn abusers,
So we’re prone to activating the sins of our forefathers,
Because they were robbed too,
Our blood boiling
and the body cannot contain much rage,
So much anger that my muscles hurt,
But I’m too numb to give a fuck,
All I know is soreness, so mind as well pump iron,
When I get that spurt of energy,
The urge to purge this self-inflicting poison,
Adrenaline electrocuting my nerves,
Confusing the meaning of words,
“WTF did she say? Is that what I heard!?”
Don’t react otherwise they’ll think you’re a crazy bitch who hears shit!
My heart problem is psychological,
I’ve been robbed from,
Yet I still work hard,
Because I expect harm,
From any arm,
That extends pretending to be my friend,
No thanks,
Asking for help is never an option,
When the assistance was narcissistic injecting me with pestilence,
Meant to take me out this place,
Now I accept death as a form of transcendence,
Traumatic turbulence,
Nearly turned me into a walking automatic weapon,
Because we expect everyone to be secretly evil,
Despite our distorted view of reality,
Minds warped from mental torment,
To the point you wanna abort mission,
Nowhere to seek refuge,
With these huge curses needing to be broken,
Which forces us to break along with it,
Many have died in this line of work,
Lightworkers demonios abhor,
Our bodies know exactly what an Earthquake feels like,
As the heart pieces break and drift away from its core,
Until there is no more,
How can we love anyone with a pulverized heart?
So Shaytan tries to recruit us for destruction,
A humanoid python,
Do NOT become what you despise,
Mind made up of toxic concoctions,
To become a crock pot full of venomous products,
Giving us more reasons to stop giving a fuck,
How can we be so broken, yet have so much love and affection?
Deprivation breeds craving which is what makes us so dangerous,
I guess that’s where the passion comes from,
Unquenchable aggression reminds me that I’m still alive, but not always well,
The surplus of love supply is frightening,
I must be psychotic to survive this,
I’m not supposed to be embodying light,
My life has been supported through the words I write,
Straight from a broken mind they love to mock,
I already told’em I know nothing,
I just think it’s amazing I made it this far,
The rejections had to happen in order for God to adopt me.
How are you chosen when you curse?
That just means we need Yahawa the most,
I’m not gonna pretend to be someone I’m not,
I’m not a church girl,
But I read the scriptures and Qur’an at home,
And no one would ever know,
Because they’d rather assume and gossip,
Instead of getting to know the spirit behind the vessel,
is in dire need of un abrazo y beso.