I fooled myself
I created this perfect picture of reality
In actuality it only ended up being a distorted image.
The reaper laughed at me because I was killing myself early.
Taking years off my life like everything was okay
But I wasn't.
I yearned for more
For more that couldn't be provided
In my mind I was wrong and the world was right.
I might as well been sippin lean
Because I was leaning in the wrong direction
And becoming a fiend for this medicine
That only ended up causing me to be dependent on death.

Why do you come to my table with an empty plate?
Expecting to feed off all the goods I provide
I deny you the right to enjoy what's free
Or are you just really denying yourself?
Starving your soul.
Feeding your flesh.
What much can that lust do after your death?
I'm dying everyday while you get a piece of the cake.
You can't eat the cake and have it too.
No literally
Once you eat the cake you physically lost it.
Once you become consumed by it,
You no longer possess it.
It possesses you.
So why do you come to my table with an empty plate?
I see you've become consumed
Consumed by greed you think wealth is all you need.

How do you reach for the stars
When you're scared of heights?
You say your aim is high,
But all that is visible is fright.
Stagnant
Complacent where you're at.
Don't you want more?
Better yet don't you want to better yourself?
What is life if we don't improve?
I ask myself what's the point if everyday is the same.
Sameness equates to a box.
Boxed in a cube.
The same look, feel, and emotion.
The definition of insanity
Doing the same thing
Looking for a different outcome.

In a distance I see a glow.
I can't escape the  shine,
It almost feels like it's mine.
So much greenery that I feel serenity.
You see the best green as money,
I see the best green as the grass and trees.
One monetarily makes you happy
The other can always bring you joy.
Years of growth.
Showing you it is possible to be beautiful
Naturally.
Artificial beauty fades like ink on a paper.
It just blows in the wind,
To never be seen again.
Stand tall and don't give in to the wind
Is all the trees tell me.
Life can be beautiful and full of life.
Obvious yet some live and have no life,
Not reaching their full potential.
They die lifeless.
I choose to live life beautifully and loudly,
Like the grass and trees.

Feeling spiritual I see a miracle in the distance.
My lack of far sight makes my near sight more existent.
Running calmly makes my enemies get nervous.
I just don't get worried about what they see on the surface.
My own body is the only enemy that challenges me.
It knows my vision is impaired and knows what I see.
Miraculously I'm no longer a slave to self.
The only feeling of freedom that I've ever felt.

I'll write until there is no life left in the tips of my fingers,
As if frost covered my body and left me feeling less.
When there is no feeling left to place in words,
I'll write until the last drop of blood leaves my heart.
As long as the blues still runs in my veins
I have to get it all out into ink.
It doesn't come out in the same color
Because the feelings are expelled out and exhausted.
Don't you turn blue when you've given all your heart can take?
The connection of rhythm and meaning is one of the few talents I possess.
Every feeling has a beat.
Every moment has background music,
But you don't become conscious of the music until you pay close attention.
Your heart beats differently at different situations.
My heart is most musical and melodic when I'm holding a pen.
I'm writing my cardiac electrical activity
on this heart monitor called paper,
But I know one day it'll come to an end.
The moment I drop the pen is the moment I give in.
Until the end of my time I'll continue to rhyme.

What is a man with an untold dream?
A withering flower or a stair case with a dead end?
What is a man who doesn't follow his dreams?
A man who doesn't fly
Is like a dove that is unable to spread its wings.
How then can its beauty be shared with the world?
Stuck in quicksand
Slowly sinking to the bottom of the pit,
Life begins to feel like a deceitful desert.
With a million mirages that you can't reach
because none of them result in being real.
As Langston Hughes once said
A dream deferred becomes a raisin in the sun.
What then is a man's motivation not to dream?
Is it our biggest fear that we are powerful being measure?
Why then should we not let our light shine upon others?
The light and salt of the world is what I'd rather be.
So I encourage you through words and existence
Dream free