a black rose, infertile lies her Born in a world of misappropriated truths, her mahogany son flower, a dissociated youth . . . She was my mother earth, I found nourishment in her soil, comfort within her petals, though uncomfortably she’d toil just to see her seeds grow, beautifully unfurl . . . There was a pride within her cultivation, strength saturated the roots, kings and queens of the plant kingdom, cross-section cuts showed the proof, just count the ring segments, each one held the wisdom of the last, distilled chronology, a constant reminder of our past . . . But I was a rogue stem, and I questioned the world’s fertilizer, they figured they could feed me the bull’s sh1t and I’d be none the wiser, packaging lies amongst selected truths has been history’s best disguise, they can standardize it and teach it in books, but I can smell the pesticide . . . Infertile minds birth ignorance, and false teachings start the cycle, if they control what’s taught to your kids, then true progression is stifled. So watch what’s implanted in fertile lies, cause the only beneficial education is chose, through knowledge of self and pride in my eyes, consciously . . . a black rose.