KANYE WEST (METAPHORICAL)
KANYE WEST (METAPHORICAL)
There is no fault in my fret and no joy in my judgement ,
I only assemble to sleep ,usually I am fragmented when I am awakeMy melancholy has no testimony of its own
My mind is at blaze , my kind is not on this planet
Love feels sick, love is pricked, it comes in pale face and fallacies,
My friends say they love me even when I skipped,
The rehearsal dinner at their marriage ceremonies
The friendships I questioned, kept me together for sure
There is no guilt in the gruesomeness of ingenuineness ,
My reward is their apathy at my burial grave
Dug me out when I don't react to your treachery
I might bite my lip, that is incessant to their mockery
Let me begin the process of begging the question of fallacy.
All my highs turn a self proclaimed disdain
When I claim I am the cage of my
Own heritage
I am in my hoodwinked phase
I shall run but I know I would never be able to escape
This is a town , of a mad man,
as verbal pronouns are itself a self made noun
They call me an extra when I take half a seat to settle my basics
While my beings and personality stand still
Are any enquiries left to make my bed a custodial of my cultic mourning ?
Because I don't want to be late on my commencement dinner of my favorite offering
Where I offer flowers of fresh failures
When I couldn't speak my mind and stand the greats of my times
Because I feel insecure and insulted
When someone deny me their house trip
I am a man, I bring a fulcrum of fate to the fate accompli
So they grieve when I leave, and mourn when I am deceased
I am the man, so I hate every woman,
Who has boundaries and clarity,
Of their virtues and vices, of their career and crises,
I am the man, so I choose my muse
And if they don't choose me back, I am trained to refuse,
They call me an extra when I take half a seat to settle my basics
While my beings and personality stand still
Are any enquiries left to make my bed a custodial of my cultic mourning ?
Because I don't want to be late on my commencement dinner of my favorite offering
Where I offer flowers of fresh failures
When I couldn't speak my mind and stand the greats of my times
Because I feel insecure and insulted
When someone deny me their house trip
I am a man, I bring a fulcrum of fate to the fate accompli
So they grieve when I leave, and mourn when I am deceased
I am the man, so I hate every woman,
Who has boundaries and clarity,
Of their virtues and vices, of their career and crises,
I am the man, so I choose my muse
And if they don't choose me back, I am trained to refuse,
any of their good traits while I agree with all of their cunt tactics,
Because they must regret why they ever talked to me,
So I pursue them twice or thrice, and when they still say No ,
They become the victims of their decisive pride ,
So they are only amateurs at best, when I act around them as Kanye West.
Leeza
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