Verses
I'm the vessel of your verses
The voice of your vice
The product of the dream you nurture
The nature you hide
I'm the vessel of your verses
For better or worse as
I killed as much as I healed
For your own selfish causes
Though like I
Sprinkled in time – a wrinkle in time
Distort this course of pattered patterns
As we try to advise
I come from a plight your voice invites
Yet through that noise my choice is mine
I'll rhyme with vice from time to time
But rhyme my course through what is mine
To frame my words:
Picture my verse reversing a curse and nursing a hearse
Purging the urge to merge with the merchant of murder or worse
Piercing the person that persecuted my pride
Piercing the Plight that worsens the worth of the words I write
Purging my urges, the grudges held from the judgment of hurt
Purging my hypocrisy, when it gave you hurt much worse
The stanzas alliterate to reflect the repetition
The verse of illiterate veterans on a mission
To verse you in their permanent "medicating" religion
Most mean love, while most only deliver what's given
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