RM ( / )


Someone once told me
That I’m some beauty queen
He couldn’t figure why
But he couldn’t take his eyes off my gaze and smile.
I’m some enemy jet locked on by his missiles
Always locked but never disengaging.

He never heard me sing, nor had he ever heard me cry
But I’m somehow the queen of his castles
Built that second above his heavy head
I was his sunflower, adored by the sun and rain
Womanly and sweet, fit to pollinate his kingdom.

So I’ll get me some horses, some ponies, some unicorns
To ride on, to traverse on, to commute on
Where my demons won’t find me
As long as its militia stays still in your ideals
In their absence,
I’ll hunt down your posies, your flawlessly blooming manhood
And maybe I’ll find me a merchant, a salesman, a capitalist
I’ll build a prospective market,
Till I open my hands when my harvest is empty

So I’ll find me a religious tailor, some spiritual leaders, a savior
To design me a new faith, a radical movement, a political order
Where your demons won’t touch me
As long as its militia stays still in ignorance
In their absence,
I’ll conceive my clones: To make me a well mother
And maybe I’ll assemble me a society, a civilization, a social order
I’ll over populate your daydream wonderland,
Till you find nothing left of you on your own terrain

So I’ll find me a farmer, some cultivators, a grower
To nurture me a habitat, an environment, a personalized atmosphere
Where no demons can harm me
As long as its militia stays still in trepidation
In their absence,
I’ll bring Nibiru right to your doorstep, your hospitable welcoming
And maybe I’ll plow me a meadow, a grazing land, a novel pasture
I’ll present you some new sunflowers, adored by my sun and rain,
Womanly and sweet, fit to pollinate my kingdom

What will you do then, dear King?

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