Standing on the precipice of what was
And what could be
I am terrified
Tongue tied
Visibly shaken
And somewhat uptight
I am lost in translation
The channel between the stations
All static and no feed
The words between the lines
That no one ever reads
All black and white
Total absence of color
I’ve given up the fight
Remembering my mother
And her always wise words
That I consistently wrote off
And outright called absurd
While in the corner she cried
Over the disaster that was me
While on the road
I was off calling myself free
Trapped in the self imposed cage
The scorching depths that I called my rage
Unexpressed and explosive
Waiting for a steady target
The one that it could get the most of
And you just so happened to be it
Ready aim fire
The missiles of preaching to the choir.