Hatshepsut

Covering your face with strokes of color and gold/, but as Hatshepsut your inside is dead, cold/ Likes or dislikes thats all that pops up/, yeah your soul disappeared, went cloud up/ Contouring overdone, below a crop top there is an illusion of abs/, not a sight of slack/, just to get some more egoboosting feedback/ and some more ads/ Obsessive fullness to creat that perfect look/, defections all fixed, viewers conclusion, yeah a milliondollar look/, everything done just to keep them followers hooked/ Meaningless ink confirms that you are one of the many copies in this gallery/ seductive nudity to provide for what you call a salary/ Like an addict/ you possess an unpleasant habit/, you use needles to poke a flat empty space out, just to get some more views at it/ Yeah instead of woman up/, you fillers up/, being so fake that you are getting true at it/ In a 6 inch cell case your life is locked/, charged with only a lense of glass, shouts out, blocked/ Constant tapping will crack that screen, your protection/, leaving your storebought curves slowly oxidizing, no more public acception/ Soon too post for the present, forgotten, as your time has lined out/, yeah this exhibition is over and you're out/