Trickster

it’s all a game of chess. but with cigarettes and glass bottles and the goal is to light the palace on fire.

weak

Inside, you are weak.

queen

I need a beat to write my words to,ones the haters can’t listen to;problem is that they try to drown out my voice,my ears deaf to the world, I only speakthe whole truth, they hear all lies.These fools take their words to be truth,spit out insults, watch them fly.They call me betrayal, they call me

reassurances

when your insecuritiesgrow too loud,and your criticssnarl and yell(more than usual),remember a rosehas sharp thornsin its side,yet it still blooms(in green-fingered spring)with the beauty and graceof a powerful queen

the queen

the highs and the lows – they will never define me –dark within the gold. whispers follow me,gold train of secrets and painthat bring me up now. golden pedestalwildness, rage, sadness, kindness,make way for the queen