Self

Tue, 10/06/2015 - 17:57 -- rsaya78

I am...

The worst moment in my life

The best in my strife

The most precious thing I can't measure

When I'm under pressure

... But this world is undoubtedly the greatest of all treasures

 

Already

Feeling the crushing defeat

Of my flaws and my age

Keeping my soul bound up in its chains

 

Mama told me one day

That I was gonna be great

Said after I got my head outta my ass

I'd get a clean slate

To reinvent myself and be somebody new,

But she had it in her head

For me to die in school

 

But writing and emceeing frees the soul

In a way nobody else experienced before

How else can you speak human

But through words and emotions?

Through personal experience,

Love letters and explosions

 

Of thought, Philosophy

Humanity

Every time I connect with yours,

I give my own soul a little color

 

Paint this masterpiece of human suffering

Between every stroke, someone's life is buffering

Unsure of where it stops and where it begins

No way of knowing until it happens

 

Some strokes bloody, some strokes bright

Some hide 'round the edges, afraid of the light

But each little dot it's own little world

There's something lovely growing inside

Go ahead, give it a twirl

 

Am I the dot, am I the painter?

If the Master holds the brush,

Do the dots grow fainter?

 

 

Can you hear the hopes and dreams?

Can you listen closely to soul-crushing cries

And a million screams?

Do the birds chirp at your window,

Is the reaper at your door?

 

The dirt beneath, is it moving

When is it time for me to hit the floor?

 

I am...

The worst moment in my life

The best in my strife

The most precious thing I can't measure

When I'm under pressure

... But this world is undoubtedly the greatest of all treasures

 

I am potential,

A million possibilities

And streams of color

My canvas is filled with suffering and joy I have not yet felt

I've never felt more alive with this hand I've been dealt.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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