Why can't I be a pair of scissors?
Cutting my way through unneeded pieces of paper
Creating shapes of something I hide inside
And even if I don’t pick the colors of my forms
I form a voice of the colors shaping my opinionated margins
yes
my margins are opinionated because if the side lines weren't there
The court would not exist would it?
And if the benches didn't exist
Well you wouldn't have a team would you??

Why can't I be the voice of truth
Roaming around people
Perpetrating through human voices
And righteous leaders now fail to exist…
And existence would be simple
And simple would not be impossible
For your complexity drives me through alleys of doubt
And routs
I take for a mistake
I'll never love you as much as I do now…
Look at me
He says to the slightly misguided princess
Now rubbing the dirt of her red converse
Conversing here and there,
Diverse attitudes thrown upon her face;
Like she's delightly unpleased with you
And jovially laughing upon her anger
And angry as I be, I cannot but look into those eyes
On phone screens
And wallpapers
Creating walls of papers
For my heart shaped scissors to cut through
And create a notion of change ill never arrange
But what would be the master conductor of it all
Is my deranged heart

Why can't I be just another teenager
A stranger
So as to say she would never get to know me
And I will just be feeling the exact same thing I am feeling now
Why can't I be just another teenager that is fooled by politicians?
Consumes the blooms of colerly glooms in rooms
Posters and fumes of dark metal flumes
Like the night wasn't enough to empty rage reflecting upon stars

The product of man
The lifelong process of spending money to get money
Call this the circle of life, the cycle of human beings
Creating asylums and cages and pentagons
To get out of their own
I build my empire upon your thrown
I breathe the last exhaled strokes of oxygen you have thrown
I conclude whatever you hypothesized
And size doesn’t matter
For matter scatters when the seed is not firm
A seed becomes a tree
And a tree becomes me
And I become this land
And this land is not free
Farmers affirming formulas upon frightened fortune tellers
Fortune was never destiny
Fortune was the future fought for
Lets fight ow man…ow trees
Lets fight

Why can't I just be her eye lashes?
So I could stare into her honesty all day
Prepare myself to contract and kneel to protect her delicacy from dust
Open widely as I represent a sense of her pleasure
And shut when my heart shatters on her melancholy
As my tender touches console her frail eyes

I don’t want to be just another majd
Another shidiac of the family tree
Those existential moments embellished with a thought of her smile
Sponsored by a scent on my hands
I hand out the clarity she hands out to me
I unknot the ties you created with a simple smile
The grins are so thin with the upper lip of nonexistence
Yet the content descent upon thee
Like the holy rain that has never been experienced by the uninvolved
We humans do not experience
We humans create experiences
Expressions show upon our faces as we agree upon our work
Or decide to disregard
Disagree with the outcome of thoughtless days of planning
I plan to be something more than what I am
I plan to be something she wants me to be
And go passed that to something bigger
I plan to be the savior of my earth
Yet be the only earth that could give water to her smiles
I plan to be the director of revolutionary wars
Yet the warrior under the flag of her eyes
I want to be whatever she wants me to be
In twine with what I plan to be
And a bit more than that…
And a bit more than that…