RMC

Words get put in my brain,
from the scars so deep past veins
that my energy is wired, tired and sane.
But I operate under another name.

I need time, machinations,
a debate about love, pain and fate.
But time is running at a pace
I trace only the hindsight that reigns.

I need no King all is for I am my own
hoping one day for a home
where I can travel with time alone:
if your mad throw the first stone.

Slander slash down your gown,
the lace the ground gas found.
What is it about it that you frown
down upon any reason or sound.

Escape and run into the past
and see how long the madness lasts.
The wrath in your path
doesn’t add up you have bad math.

Stoked you are choked by smoke
from the acidity of this city it spoke:
and the devil came to town to choke
luxuriant vines from a seed’s growth.

Injutice called the oblivion
the acts that attack a season
your stoney heart sees them,
look where I am and where I’ve been.

-Raven