I Ran I ran so often the souls of my feet bled Not to mention my soul I cried I cried so often salt was Often the only emotion dusted on my cheeks I watched I watched so often others dance Others Sing Others Write For praise and only… Praise… Lucifer’s Content The one angelic being who Held organs as lungs And directed heavens choir collected the praise for the ultimate poet GOD. The praise feeling like it was his and the swell of his ego Led to his Kingdom His content. His Sin His continent His con-tin-ent Conned in it I fell And rested In A lucid angels demerit Pride left me and did not right me The crowd that loved Could not sight me Lucifer’s content could not Requite me nor provide the growth humility did My light was suffused in liquid pride Dimmed by a misconstrued purpose I realized that the blessing Rested not in the praise of collection but In the honor of carrying the message Inspiring the song Passing the praise. No longer complacent In the content of a misused art form of the psalmist Lucifer’s Con-Tent In the tent of a defrauder Where I was the mark Resting in a home of sin that beckoned me dead. Now illuminated And enlightened Once again sweet smelling aroma To one omnipresent I scribble this scribe by scripture. Bypassing the trial of being bent Awaking from Resting in Lucifer’s content. -Muse * hello family of Destee , I've been reading, watching and getting to know some of the poets(wow). I finally felt comfy enough to post somethin'. It didn't take long cause y'all are soul food poets. Much love and thanks for reading.