No sort of scholar or philosopher, not crunching numbers,
Or body builder to push heavenward what I'm crumbling under,
But I uplift developed stress with the strength of thousands,
Blowing gusts of wind towards smoke which left senses clouded,
Wash away insecurities that catch drift of my crashing waves,
Illuminating darkness with sparks and with flashing rays,
Elysium is found when my mind leaks and drenches a canvas,
How could hate overcome when my sentence demands bliss?
So, instead I blanket my scriptures with incredible logic,
Bury my paper between dunes and turn the desert to tropics,
So surreal. But this pen exsists to unmask and enlighten,
Tackle the lightning, meet with God and clash with Poseidon,
Fabricate writing? No, all I can provide is information,
Furnish and educate minds to grow pride and inspiration,
And to me freedom is love. Like growth of a tree from a shrub,
Or uncaging emotion to send soaring like I'm freeing a dove,
Being above the limit set by the governments standards,
Let loose creativity on pages when it's covered in bland words,
So when someone says you're nothing and your dreams couldn't be,
Remember everything starts somewhere and rivers lead to the sea,
And sea to the ocean..... Your goals are determined by you,
No matter if you're from New York or born on the bayou,
But with the world so pathetic, how can someone dream?
Well, we're all doing what we can... and it's gonna be.







Alright.

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