Insecurities of a Demi-God part 2/4

I hear success is like suicide
I’d be grateful to put it through my dome, just to open one up
Tragic that my soul is the price of admission,
But the show goes on.
Break a leg & sacrifice a lung,
To eventually give your arms to the gold they bestowed you with,
Reconstruct yourself & bless evolution with your personal “amen”; return home as the inner saviour that you were hidden to be.

Optimism, couldn’t find him.

The blue blooded peasant now with Son of Man priorities,
Concubines provided by the allure of the Voodooman’s clutch,
Consequences?
Root for belligerence.
Morality is a hindrance
So I parted ways from my chains once The Morning attacked me.
With purpose & a prayer,
Logic was there.
Renouncement from Massa’ picking poisons in the field of maybe’s & unspecified messages.

Side-note.

Warning: side effects may include an echo in a every heartbeat.

Damnation is implied but I was advised to not sweat the small stuff.

Agreed.

Voodooman.
You did it, you did it.
Now they’re clapping for the wrong reasons & I love you for that,
Bow on our arrival, the glorified idols,
YEEZUS to a batch of youths with a compromised attention spans.

Just like how I do.

Now my mother is shedding tears,
She doesn’t see me anymore,
Mama begging “omo olorutu, come home”.
& my sisters don’t feel the warmth in my hugs backstage.
My brother.
He said I died “a long time ago”
so practicality prevents any & all emotion to ensue.
Death becomes him.
Breaking apart with all the Legos in place.
D’Evils have me gargling all types money
Crowned #PornhubWhore
Still getting sucked & fucked for positions & I haven’t cum once.

Careers from a nut.

Voodooman, I need a loan.
I can’t go back to these payments in flesh,
Seared melanin,
Scars tainted intimate moments & just like that; bongbong,
I’m riddled in debt.

Menthols.
2 hours of freedom.
2 more of night terrors.
One pad.
Free porn & bottle of diabetes.
Shit for failed dreams to relate to.
Stealing a spirit’s chance for peace,
Too busy stressing over mortals.
Purpose; top of the bucket list
I figured the trade off is my soul to feel like I’ve did some shit.

I make no apologies for my ignorance.

I’ve been smoking,
Ninety nine problems,
This is Fear.
Next;
Take your pick.

– Thelonious Rager 

Written by Oladeji Odumosu

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