All mighty god killer

“Neon drowned the stars…

Angels choked on chrome…

Saints sold their wings for scratch…”

(tone shifts, sharper)

“You were forged in blood, not born.”

(slight pause, colder now)

“Come to me, almighty God Killer.

Slum-birthed beast with a crown of wire,

Bled on the floor just to fuel this fire.

Your drip’s just cosplay, mine’s pain-pressed,

Every breath I take is a system test.

Grew up eatin’ rust, crackin’ skulls for bread,

You flex in club lights—I drag the dead.

Fake pain’s a brand, mine’s code-etched deep,

You tweet trauma—I grind it in my sleep.

Chrome jaw gnashin’, no savior’s gift,

I carve my sermons with a jagged shiv.

You’re playin’ glitchcore—I am the bug,

A blackout devil with a taste for blood.

⸻

Flatline the trend, zero the play,

I’m the choom that makes death pray.

This city forged me in a sewer pipe—

You post edge, I am the knife.

You ain’t rogue, you ain’t rage,

Just a gonk with a toy on a neon stage.

I scrap myths, I unwrite fate,

Bite down hard ’til the bones vibrate.

⸻

Rippin’ out halos with broken teeth,

I laugh through trauma in the cracks beneath.

System-fed poison since the cradle cracked,

Now I gut gods in a feedback track.

You cosplay grief—I make it breathe,

Paint the walls with the lies you seethe.

I saw love die with a twitch and cough,

Now I flinch like a switch when the mask comes off.

This soul ain’t salvage—it’s blood and steel,

Too real to heal, too cold to feel.

So talk that static, walk that flash—

I tear through glitch rats with a corpse-laced splash.

⸻

Flatline the pose, zero the script,

I speak in blade, you sim with lips.

System broke me, now I bite back,

You flaunt scars—I am the crack.

Run your script, choom—die by the scene,

I bleed war and piss kerosene.

You fake voids, I live erased,

The godkiller walks with a glitch-born face.

⸻

Lived through blackouts, woke in screams,

Watched my kin die in data streams.

You want this pain? You sure, choom?

Cuz I’ll drag your ghost through a sewer tomb.

I sleep with blades and feed on fire,

My lullabies were shock and wire.

So praise your brand and beg for clout—

But when I come knockin’ you glitch the fuck out.

⸻

Flatline fame, zero the pride,

I choke kings in the alleys they hide.

You post grief, I spit war cries—

I’m the glitch you feel when a real one dies.

So keep barkin’, choom, but when death roars loud,

It ain’t your face the system shrouds.

It’s mine—scarred, unholy, burned,

And I don’t die… I just return.