consequence

May death come
for the deaf son,
who walk the test
of the vision-less,
meet the who
who'll do the voodoo upon to you,
my mind ran to Satan
turned me to his shaman,
from chosen one
to Armageddon,
get done get gone
shun the sun and gun-run,
the cyanide and your own suicide,
and abide the other side while in stride,
then create the endless
form of mend-less,
constipated hatred that's narrated
and fabricated by the self-proclaimed educated,
that brings conviction upon prediction,
never listen,
but still seek the word of the future world
from the curls pain-full hurl,
a hurl of song its flow brings wisdom
of mind-full martyrdom
that a moron seek
from the creaking leak
to get their conscious peak,
a creation of sensation for the abomonation