I crippled you the last time you tried to infiltrate my mind.
Though I may have lost my connection to the 8 moons of Africa.
My race hears me while your’s fears me.
Guilty bystanders as they lay their shifting eyes on my vessel.
I wrestle with demons created of my own short-comings as well as those conjured by your skewed portrayal of who I am.
My sin has given me the wings that you pray for every night.
You lack effort in your procesuction.
My voice will rang true through out the universe while you coware behind the desolation that you cast in my direction.
You are guarded by your false morals and those who you would consider your squires.
I am in high demand while it is you who lack the supply to fufill what I can without effort.
Notice the way she admires the way I push down the earth as I walk.
It is us that control the storms on Jupiter.
It is us that control the cosmos.
And it is us that will reap every benefit as your blood becomes tainted with our purity.
No matter what happens to my race on this plane, know that it is you who will fall to the wayside.
You may extract every visual curiosity that we bring to this realm, but little by little you become one us through attrition.
Your legacy will be torn down within the next millennium.
And try as you might to keep us bound.
You inbred fucks will be ghost in a society that would have long forgotten you.
It is our skin that glows in the moonlight.
It is our skin that radiates alongside the sun and stars.
And it is our third eye that expose and lay waste to the moronic impression that you were ever our equals.
You deny us the glory that we deserve verbally.
But your consumption of what we fabricate speaks in volumes.
Witness our strength.