**My poem to The Cult of Candace** The Cult of Candace, crazy as they may be, they'll never have the truth that sets them free. What’s clear to you and clear to me Is never truly clear to Candace’s little bumblebees. Not convinced it’s a cult you say? Just stick around—you’ll see it on display. First a little crazy starts to show, Then full-blown madness starts to grow. She claims her cause is pure and divine, But good fruit is missing down the vine. The harvest is barren, the cupboard is bare, Nothing but rotten fruit hanging there. Emotions run wild, convictions run free, They sentence their enemies with zero decree. No proof required, no evidence needed, Just feelings and vibes—while truth gets defeated. “Don’t bore us with facts!” they scream and they shout, we only NEED feelings—for sure NO DOUBT They jump into jacks, screaming and shouting out, Crashing and thrashing as they flip right about. Federal evidence? They spit on the floor. Anonymous sources are all they adore. All for the money, all for the fame, They drag a dead man’s wife through the mud and the shame. Theories for series, content for cash, While the widow cries and they count up the stash. Then Andrew stepped in to expose the whole scene,Betting three hundred grand that she’s far from pristine! She ran from the challenge, she hid from the light, Still her followers cheered like she’d won the big fight. That’s when you know that the cult is complete— When even the silence gets sold as a win in defeat. No answers, no evidence, nothing to show, Yet still they keep marching wherever she goes. They’ll follow those bees till the whole thing collapses, Still screaming her name while the last bridge collapses. Because truth never mattered, the tribe was the goal… And the Cult of Candace already sold its soul.
