Checkmate - Apathy

I set my moves up strategically, enemy kings are taken easily

Knights move four spaces, in place of bishops east of me

Communicate with pawns on a telepathic frequency

Smash knights with mics in militant mental fights, it seems to be

An everlasting battle on the 64-block geometric metal battlefield

The sword of my rook, will shatter your feeble battle shield

I witness a bishop that’ll wield his mystic sword

And slaughter every player who inhabits my chessboard

Knight to Queen’s three, I slice through MC’s

Seize the rook’s towers and the bishop’s ministries

Minstrels sing songs and mimic me, but cease to live instantly

Hidden deep within me is a sinister entity

Intentions of tension, tense in ten tents

Where kings rest in beds with queens' breasts exposed for sex

To decrease or release tension, tends to tense men

When traitorous defenses fence in kings men

I quickly push the whore up from off of me

Trying to understand this battle of psychology

Psychotic, I slice optics of cyclops

And wander with warlocks, through Indian corn stalks

Chessboard blocks become blood-red

Blood clots block brains and lock the thoughts of pawns in shock

I shot, crossbows and toss flows across moats

To pierce the archer’s armor, armed with arrows

Pole points from elbows, where joints join with marrow

To maim, the tip of the arrows lit with flame

Checkmate — the death of your king ends the game