Another soul with pain, in real life.
Full of hardships, scars, and a lot of strife.
But in my head you have been anointed.
You run the show. You call the shots and even my flow.
In my head, you’re all the rave.
You rule with fear. You’re the queen of my cave.
Even when I pray, to the Lord on high.
You’re in the background, drawing nigh.
You confuse my intuition.
You force my extradition.
Your whispers cut so deep.
They haunt me when I sleep.
But as irony would have it.
Streets run two ways.
You know that’s true.
Your moves were just a coup.
But the winner takes home an immaculate purse.
This pain so cold. This preposterous curse.
So the tragedy therein lies.
That we stay out in this rain.
Like two old stubborn spies.
With animosity, fear, and utter disdain.
Love begins to rule when we all open up.
While bad feelings swirl, right out of the cup.