Strange Truth
If I blaspheme they call me a master of crafts,
If I speak the truth in my arts, it hurts the hearts of the
Supposedly free, the supposedly wise,
If I cherish my youth, and despise manners uncouth,
Talk about issues when I rhyme in the booth,
Then I’m called a party pooper,
Noise maker & heretic,
The world despises the truth and its authenticity,
That’s why there’s publicity of what is generic,
Commentators, public figures and even the clerics,
What goes around comes around, the world is spherical,
The truth is strange to most, acceptable by a few,
Fresh like the morning dew,
Different points of view, but the truth remains singular,
Seek yee’ and you shall find,
Realize it is Lies that bind,
Open thy eyes, to a journey of a thousand footsteps,
Like the proverbial journey to the alchemist,
Artists, scientists and strategists,
Pilgrimage of chosen not the called,
Stalled in pop culture,
Many are called Few Are Chosen.
Strange Truth
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