tha prophet

my verse is ill

when I spill it

like verbal cards

i deal it.

pickin’ prose

like figs

i peal it.

makin’ paralytics

feel it.

a fisher of men

i reel it.

dipped in holy

water, i heal it.

makin love

outta words


i reveal it.

with two lips

hands clasped

i pray and

i seal it.


© amixon

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