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

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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