The Trim Trimmer Show

I feel if you want to steal my limelight then you had best learn to rhyme tight, and double up your rhyme with each line like mine so that I might feel the fright, decline and beeline from your sight. Live your life in the shadows far away from the meadows and only move slightly so your world doesnt crumble. Just sit in your bubble and wallow and mumble afraid to rumble this phenom for the trouble. You've the chance of a bumble bee that's been detached from its stinger and wings, whinging in pain towards the fat lady that sings. Nearing the finish line in less than a minutes time, sliding from the peak and unable to climb, beaten down in shock by my sublime and superbly well crafted rhyme. You can repeatedly attempt to try to call my bluff but you cannot sit in my seat or out do my stuff because I'll treat you rough and smack the puff out of your cheeks thus causing you to fluff words you seek, weak without enough. I'm the Trim Reaper, I creep, I'll push you down until you creek, and become to weak, to move or even speak, I'll allow your slow retreat, as the tears begin to leak, I'll beat out the next beat as I beat and defeat on repeat. Kings fumble their crown in a blink of the eye, and fall down earth bound from way up in the sky, because they cannot thrive, not while I am alive, best to give up then hide and silence crying eyes. Musk it you must as the dusk hides the dust, because you can't muster up or adjust and prove that you've got enough groove to remove me when you're busted with no thrust to remove me or leave me stationed to rust. Trust me I'll turn your talent crusty abruptly then move heaven and hell above me. My desire will not tire as the fire transpires up high, all eyes on me to see the majestic Phoenix rise. A presence out of this world like the Phoenix lights, this sentence wields the last words seen in this write.