Yo, I stared at the sky, asked God why He ghosted me,
no reply—just ozone and neon loneliness.
Angels on mute, demons on push-to-talk,
faith drip-drippin’ like a cracked IV.
I spit bars at the void, echoes bounce back cursed,
every verse a black-haloed psalm.
If love’s real, why it come with a receipt?
If Hell’s fake, why my shoes meltin’?
I’m still here, chest full of smoke and questions,
gravity sewn in my eyelids,
dodging halos bent like police tape—
tell the choir quit harmonizin’ my guilt.