Maggot High

Maybe it's just justice
Of her perfectionist list

A view on life
Rhetorical and an easy luscious knife

She's so full of strife
Does she not really know?
The show will go on,
From the highest to the low.

A dramatic assessment she's conjured near,
And all of the new news will surely be revered,
By all the lost maggots and they're delicate cuts,
The attentions whore's who only ever cared for God's lust.

But does she seem similar with callous demise?
"I'm not harming nor protecting."
She's aiming for the prize.

"I'm not witty nor kind,
And as soon as you find
Those maggots on the floor
You'll know, nevermore
I be lowered to that level of righteous selfishness,
Nor kind-hearted communications of restlessness.

I am not here to help you,
But did I come knocking,
Just for you whore's
And the emotions their flocking."

--

I'll say her name,
Why say her name?
I'll win the game,
Why save for shame?

Don't let her love,
As archaic as it sounds,
She's found her no where,
And the hierarchy of towns.

Jonestown would just start,
Every last depart.

You've left her so many times,
She's forgiven and demised.

Misguide and uprise.
She'd throw those things aside,
All looking at what you've derived,

And with words not from your alphabets,
She gave up,
Resisted, passing the test.

It sounds so simple, but there's so much more,
As the Whore of Babylon came a'knockin' at your door.