false prophets

i’ve spent all my time

surrounded by these

false prophets,

pretty promises

of pleasure

and power,

only to devour

artistic value,

lies of divine inspiration,

all the motivation

gets taken,

claim to care

but they’re faking,

only there

when you’re six feet under,

suddenly,

you’re more than just

a number,

outside of when

the dollar signs

start piling on,

so they dig you up,

throw your husk

in the machine,

wring it out

for every last

drop of clout,

never gave this effort

when you were out

and about

tryna find a way around

the dark clouds,

wanted to make

your voice heard,

but they won’t

until you’re buried,

paid no mind

until it was time

to toss some flowers

at the hearse,

you were never there

until you weren’t there.

shoutout to the nobodies. i feel you.