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Divonte Presents Tragic For February 29th Legacy Writer of the Year



Childhood memories, what I’ve come out to be. Mom acts like I’m a monster, ain’t my fault I’m in the system like my father, I’m the only one who can calm my conscience, but all the B.S. makes me want to go obnoxious, pops ain’t around so now I’m king of the house, but that didn’t last because they took my crown and they threw it in the lost and found, and took my soul and threw it on the ground. I wanna speak aloud, get my voice heard all around, time still ticking, the real message is missing, get it to everybody is a simple mission, but getting everyone to get it is a workday gone fishing because the odds of that happening is the same of me owning three mansions. Evil get ready for extraction because I’m bringing back the passion, the voice you need to hear, let it whisper greatness in your ear, and say what do I really fear, because the world is filled with terror, a whole bunch of peril, shooting a poet’s bullet from my pencil’s barrel, wish there was another livable planet, so I could escape from this world that’s satanic, who planned this, the world sinking no Titanic, if there was such thing as a evil panic, we’d be at it because too many bodies get covered in plastic stretching the limits of good like elastic, making measures drastic, when it break make everything tragic.