They tell me not to waste it
I mean,
Am I a waste just cause I get wasted?
There might be nothing to waste if I never did,
I might still be faceless.
No ***** to stand face to face with the pace of my placement.
I’m jumbled at times, sure,
But that’s just the trail mix and I don’t think anyone’s lived till they’ve climbed a tree as high as god made them to.
With the wind at my back I float on.
No friction, no fear.
My limbs grew fingers and my fingers grew limbs.
It’s your conventions that make me useless,
And in my world you’re just a filler.
I won’t forget the talent that your god gave me,
don’t forget the free will he gave you.
And with all you think you know,
how dare you waste a righteous word upon the wasted,
when you already know what I’m going to do
With this little light of mine.

We are a generation that learned what not to be,
and honestly,
That'll help us a lot more than anything they ever tried teaching us.

Spaces in the grains of sand
Since I have parked my arch on parchment.
Places paced to, paces ran
Stepping stones,
Coasts through apartments.

Yards,
We all live in yards,
Traveling in cars just to hop inside a box,
Locked,
Break out with our thoughts,
Yes we are free to leave, but we won't be free for long.

Coming to and running from the palms,
The running come and go the same, no
They don't stay for long.

My ankles ache for something stable,
Striking chords, cutting cables,
Faith in Cains to make me Abel,
Cracked and hollowed by a fable.