They dress up decay in diamonds,  
call it love,  
call it legacy.  
But I see the rust beneath the glitter,  
and I spit truth  
like venom in a velvet chalice.

This world’s a theater of fakes,  
drama stitched in skin-deep stakes.  
They **** for gold that flakes in rain,  
then cry when love don’t feel the same.

I walk through crowds of mannequins,  
smiles stapled on with sin.  
They preach connection,  
but their hands are hollow—  
grasping ghosts  
just to feel something shallow.

They trade truth for trending,  
sell pain for praise.  
I spit sermons in cipher  
while they drown in their own haze.

I don’t play their game.  
I burn the board.  
I don’t chase their fame.  
I forge the sword.

Plastic thrones,  
poisoned crowns—  
they rise in noise  
and fall in sound.

They love like leeches,  
feed on fear.  
I walk alone  
but I walk clear.

They **** for gold  
that flakes in light.  
They love with hearts  
already blight.

I don’t beg.  
I don’t bend.  
I just build  
what they pretend.

They post their pain like trophies,  
but never bleed for real.  
I write in scars and silence—  
they just mimic what they feel.

I’ve seen love sold in filters,  
truth drowned in trends.  
I’ve watched gods turn to influencers  
and prophets chase dead ends.

They wear chaos like fashion,  
but I wear mine like armor.  
They scream for attention—  
I whisper for honor.

I don’t need their spotlight—  
I burn in eclipse.  
I don’t need their lips—  
I speak from crypts.

Let them crown themselves in plastic.  
Let them dance in drama’s flame.  
I’ll be carving truth in tombstones  
while they chase a hollow name.

I don’t want their gold—  
it flakes too fast.  
I don’t want their love—  
it’s built to crash.

I want silence that sings.  
I want pain that’s pure.  
I want legacy  
that can endure.

Plastic thrones,  
poisoned crowns—  
they rise in noise  
and fall in sound.

They **** for gold  
that flakes in light.  
They love with hearts  
already blight.

I walk alone  
but I walk true.  
I build from ash  
what they undo.

Let them rot in riches.  
Let them drown in fame.  
I’ll be the echo  
they couldn’t name.