DEFENDER'S RAP

• The opportunity keeps eludin’ me constantly,
• a eulogy of gloom and grief consumin’ me subconsciously.
• The stars aligned with harsh designs to scar the mind psychologically,
• wrote arcs in time that forced our lives apart astronomically.
• Look at the divine design — constellations intertwine,
• just to imprison different spirits in dimensions misaligned.
• You cherished every “what if” while the essence drifted sideways,
• inside a paradigm where lost time repeats in silent cycles.
• The connection was reflection from a section of a dead dream,
• a celestial deception in the texture of a fed scheme.
• I searched the stars to chart the path where our scars could coexist,
• inside parallel worlds where our hearts weren’t torn to bits.
• But fate glitched. I missed the opportunity bitterly — the gate shifted,
• shared chemistry with ghosts trapped in a state prison.
• Now every memory’s suspended in a gray system,
• where “maybe” is the only word replayed in my brain different.
• I replay timelines like tapes inside a fading cassette,
• where your name still echoes through the chambers inside my chest.
• The prospect of your presence turned to pressure and static,
• a phantom in the fabric of the future we imagined.
• Me and you was a maybe — but the stars acted shady,
• now I’m drivin’ through the rain while the world turns faded and grainy.
• Romantic connections became distant reflections,
• from another universe where we made the right selections.
• I missed the chance while the planets danced beyond reach,
• now I drift through remnants of what could’ve been in lost sleep.
• The burden of comparison tears holes through the spirit,
• cause every road I travel somehow leads back to your image.
• The union collapsed beautifully — mutiny in symmetry,
• fate usually favored me but lately moved differently.
• Still I express the stress as a blessing concealed in speech,
• while stars align above the ceiling just to spell defeat.
• The timeline’s frayin’ apart at the seams of reality,
• cherished “maybes” became gravestones of abandoned galaxies.
• Your absence hangs above my thoughts like storms over satellite seas,
• a cosmic catastrophe trapped in the back of me.
• I’m haunted by the possibility we never reached ascension,
• every sentence I write feels like suspended affection.
• A flamboyant flow from a soul left emotionally buried,
• still writing love letters to a future that never carried.
• Now I speak through the static of collapsed dimensions,
• where your silhouette flickers in fragmented reflections.
• The stars never hated us — they just changed positions,
• and left me alone translating pain into lyrical scriptures.