>>Vlad got bored...<<
The matyr of blame fodder, cutter of the name callers, butterknife in cream strifing deep below the stream. For the lack of gleam, in my black void of steam, I rip through necrotic in a dark shade of gothic. I'll profit from the roast. Don't stop it, take a toast, who knows how stakes and bricks formed a ghost. I boast pains in my posts. Number out the stakes given most. Got one accused felony, two sorrowful melodies, third count of jealously, 4 pagan pieties, merciless for variety. 6 cases of 5 anxieties of that OCD that bothers me, forgo the modesty, triple the suspicion will always keep. Two virgins final sleep, their father went and leaped. Then Vlad went in deep, 6 ft below the street. Every soul he'd ever meet, brick broken in their teeth. Falsely accused, tricked in a ruse, into the body, the emotions did fuse. Use your own vision to seperate the fiction. God fearing conviction, turns to addiction of agony and blasphemy in self and enemies. A piece of remedy may be the the silver blade I tote. Breaking rusty swords and hacking through throats. Turning black pitch like nights coat, the frights of myth smote, cadavers flesh burning on the table for my fable. The black kings see my gold, however old. The parable of young never caught on I'm told, Pointing fingers bold at minorities and the cold, destitute and hungry striving for mold. The men and girls I scold, this tale should never hold. Cut from the line of dragon tale, my story's so ill it goes off from the beat. Not a squeak is made from the hearts of meek, rhyme's so weak no tears will streak. Still, I sneak my RP in conclusion, forever made clear I'm just an illusion.
