58 sticks of dynamite

I never brought anything that I couldn’t carry by myself so that is to say I carry my life on my own shoulders. It takes two to tango and I’ve always danced, with no regrets, and no apologies every inch of my life bought and paid in soul scars.

Now I’m experiencing heavy times, but I’m living in the moment spilling my blood, line after line, rhyme to rhyme I am spinning my spells day to day not making a dime but from the time I was five I’ve been keeping the dream alive and though I’m barely breathing Death she can have me after I’m done and babe, I mean no disrespect but I still have a lot of spit and grit left.

58 sticks of dynamite on my birthday cake if that’s what it takes for me to blow up, under the underground 12 feet under my casket and still committing these lyrical crimes, and here is another blood stain to prove my legacy is free of the constraints of my life, think about that.

I’m not part of the mainstream, I walked my way and dreamed on, not part of the societal normies, I bleed for this every line I live and breathe with every heartbeat I spill my blood all over the page, I’m a lyrical psychopath in a rage but it’s true to my life.

I don’t try to fit in your circle so step in line with me because Rockers don’t die our legacy is stained on eternity. By Rev. "Wicced" Sarah Schultheiss