Potential

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There it is The Door. You know the one You pass it every single day This time, though You stop and look Just briefly Then hurry on your way You start to wonder What is behind it?
I got a lot of potential, but I just can't seem to break the seam, Greatness gleams as I step on the scene, a prodigy, Prolly mean that the product of me is God in me times a part of me,
    have you ever thought  about how many times  the planets regret their orbit 
The most beautiful blue sky comes after a day of rain, The most beautiful art comes from a place of pain, Some of the wisest people we claim to be insane, These worldly people are evil, ice reigns in their veins,
It emanates from you.  A paramount aroma. One so compelling we may be blinded by it. Like a bat who's lost the ability to echo-locate, only guided by his scent.
“If you can speak you can sing,And if you can walk you can dance,”She used to say.We all would laugh behindOur handsAnd raise our eyebrows, neverBelieving, because we wereToo clumsy,Too busy,
A tree stands still.  It grows from a seedling, A small little thing destined to be something great.     A tree stands still.  Waiting for it's turn to shine. 
The Me You Knew I Could Be.   The capabilities I doubted, my potential I laughed at. It was like you didn't see a nobody.. simply worthless  Not worthy of your continued support, 
Through the dark and vile came the light awakening a brumal beast. With hands like fire, virtuous fingertips graze upon the unrest of the cosmos singeing all connections that once restrained it as human.
The cieling fan runs quietly, The hound snores at the screen door. I sit and I chat over coffee With a guy who can be so much more. I enjoy these afternoon conversations.
Have you ever heard the story about the rose that grew from concrete The one that everyone thought its growth would be obsolete The one everyone thought would wither and die
The earth sits, bare. How it wishes for there to be One to bring water to the deserted field. Let the seeds of the beautiful flowers and trees Grow and grow until the bareness can no longer be seen.
Worries worries worries Who is he with? Why didn’t he tell me where he was going? Is he lying to me?
lyrically   let her try to emasculate gold dare him to evoke it   watch as they burn at the edges becoming glass figurines—hollow to hold the sunlight dance among the menagerie of light  
Sometimes I feel like boiling water  Left on a high flame I will eventually boil over Or dying flames  Left alone  I will eventually fade Both of course are inevitable  But I am much more then these analogies  I am made up of more than my negativi
I'd like to give a base for my deviance And like the Founding Fathers I'd like to site my grievances I see all these people with their heads in the sand Wondering why they're lost and saying
She was an artist,  She was a beautiful, lost soul,  Everyone knew she would change the world, Except for her,  She did not know what she would do,  She did not know her potential, 
The potency of a poem   An omen to thought provoking    More pungent than potions    More hungry than the wolf is   Ancient, long before the Romans  
I am not a poet. You are not a poet. I am a lost soul with an imagination that demands to be seen. You are a creature looking for words that fill your aching void with a sense of      belonging.  
Quiet desolation Unborn innovation Plateaued potential of the mind As simple as a sentence
16, following my dream ima young Ryan Reynolds wallowing in low self-esteem wanting to scream,go nuts kill everyone at the scene no desert eagles  just a pencil,mutant genes like deadpool
  Mistakes never made, lessons never learned Promises often go unfulfilled, multiple bridges can’t help but get burned Expectations set extremely high Young adults who can’t help but arrogantly comply
Hope A blazing fire within my soul Motivating me further Inspiring dreams  Creating purpose Hope Keeps my soul from withering Like a flower denied rain I am nourished as long as 
There was once I felt lonely, and at times I felt hopeless. It's in those times I wondered where you were or where you went. Those are the times I needed you most, why weren't you there?
He’s an alcoholic. A genius, but moronic, Meanest when he’s on it. Sedentary, Practically a-biotic As his eyes drooped then widened He would take another shot In the back of darkened corners
I want to float away, on the wings of butterflies, as they whisper the secrets the wind howls to them. I want to tie a string around the moon, and swing across the ocean, to worlds I never imagined,
On the day of July 20, 1969 A fateful man changed the outlook of mankind The first steps he recorded in outer space Captivated and astonished the entire human race Now as I look up at the moon and the stars
An inspiration of words, whispered one last time; for a crowd of mouths to listen. An inspiration of sound, screamed with passed-on passion; for one to know, and many to hear.
This world has a lot to take in.It turns and turns stopping for no one
Staring at my reflection
When I go to sleep
Tell me what I want to hear. Give me every reason to believe that you love me just from the waterfalls of your words So I can drown in them.
Monday through Friday I race the sun awake. Shower, makeup, give my hair a shake. I dress for an interview, yet it’s my every day apparel.
Inspired to do my best by those you wouldn't expect. High expectations given to me by those who don't provide my basic needs. I wonder how life would be if I didn't believe in grinding.
Hard to find who you really are
One day I'll make it big One day I'll be remembered One day I'll stand strong like the cold trees in December My arms will ache My legs will shake and just about all of me will probably break
Out there floating in the sky
To be heard is to be Waldo, found at last To be heard is to be the smallest person in any given room with the most passion of any given person
All over America, there are towns And yet no one knows them Except the citizens themselves And can you blame them? (It is their right, after all, to know the town they live in)  
I see so much potential, yet these girls,
it powers the writer to write one more line   it inspires the muscian to play one more time   it rages the soldier to take that front   it focuses the athlete
Sitting on the warm hard tiles engulfed with water and soap Pondering about life and all of its hope The water stops and the door swings open Only to reveal a provoking commotion
Fourteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Spain. Germany. England. Parents. Money. Him. Why does the universe prevent Me from living? I’ve lived my whole life
Who are you to tell me what potential is? The groomed, upstart young children Getting ever luckier While the rest Wait For their chance to shine and blow it When they realize they’re so behind
A cradle of light Born out of sight Glowing a thousand colors Waiting to be fed Waiting for more Waiting to shine   The waves are crashing   The cradles of light
What if you could evaporate in the sky And drift freely along the twists and turns of the winds current Travel miles upon miles over land Showering them with your condensed vapor
  Your impression That the world will harbor the Audacity to sever limbs from the whole truth Are gravely mistaken.   From now on, the whole truth, and nothing less! And in times of future toil,
"Don't do that" a common utterance of disempowerment A three word society on its own filled with expectation when the first mistake was made A sense of being unloved, peaking through a pessimistic lens of hearing
Theres Something Great In All Of Us,  Something We Dont Earn But is Born Within Us, Potential..  Potential  Change The Lives Of Others and Make A Difference In World Where We
I wasn’t born in the gutters; God blessed me with a stutter. So I searched and discovered, in the end hurt and disgusted Armed with this pen, dangerous on this sheet,. Bound to red ink, this is my ballpoint period piece..
And for all the mysteries in the world Perhaps, I am the most complex of all If I could wrap myself in a box I could not possibly tell if I would come in a bow   For all the tragedies in history
Poetry is not just rhyming It's about the timing I write when Im happy, lonely and sad & when things are crazy and bad It reflects of my different personalities & moods
(Inspired By "A Star Is Born" featured on "The Blueprint 3" by Jay-Z. Written because some Stars were not mentioned) This one is for the unsung. The unheard. The one who never got his congratulatory words.
I am lost in the expanse of the night sky. Forever wandering amongst the beacons of light that fill this endless Cartographer's Dream. Waking only to forget what I have learned.
What a shame, how we all were treated before, False accusations, people judged the color of skin. Our potential, needs, and feelings were forgotten, ignored, Our worn and torn shoes, no one has thought to step in.
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