1719

God is indeed a jealous God—
He cannot bear to see
That we had rather not with Him
But with each other play.

288

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you—Nobody—Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you know!

How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one’s name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!

The city of unaccomplished goals and dreams have many who sit and mope, some just procrastinate, while others tried but lost hope.

But there's one young man who wants to succeed so bad that it hurts. He's tired of falling and failing, and he's tired of the taste of dirt.

He wants the sweet taste of victory, but lemons are abundant here, but there is no sugar anywhere so lemonade is just bitter tears.

All the houses are made of card board and are blown down by the Big Bad Wolf. But the young man has no home, he walks and roams and it has made him strong and tough.

The Witch of the East in the morning she loves to disturb the city's peace. While the Witch of the West preferred the interruption of the city's rest.

So at night he goes to a secluded place and lays under the stars, and there he meets the man in the moon and they'd converse for hours. He'd tell stories of a cat and a fiddle, and a cow that could jump so high that even the dog would giggle.

He tells him of times that have come and gone, and of things he may never see, but the young man takes this all in awe cause the moon has his curiosity.

He tells the moon that one day he'll finally succeed, he'll have a family and everything and won't have a want or a need. And when he's old and meets with Death he'll have no fear in his heart, but he'll tell her about a theory he has that began his unexpected start.

The President of the United States is what I said I'd be when I was a kid, until I talked to my grandma and she said I was black and that's not something that we did.

Cause at that time there was no distinction between race, just people male and female and I didn't judge by the color of there face.

But things change and sometimes, I wish they didn't, because after that talk I began to notice the difference, and the change came not just in color.

It was in the environment, the culture, and the way we talk to each other.

It was at that moment that I felt a tunnel get smaller, I felt limited by words and I couldn't grow any taller.

Being black I felt that all I could be was a rapper or ball player. That my life was predetermined and was already tailored.  

But I'm pushing forward in the military determined to be pilot because one thing is true, the only person to stop you from succeeding is You.

So tell me who did you come to see the Butcher, the Baker, or the Rhyme Maker or probably all three.

Well they say the Butcher is a wonder with the meat, that's why he has all the women clamoring in the street. He wills and kills to tenderize that veil making it soft and sweet so they know the deal.  

They say the Baker is always up to no good, and he's also one of the main problems that stood, because he would cook it, cut it, and sell it for a profit. Had them all hooked as they said, they could fly while on it.
  
They say the Rhyme Maker keeps to his own.
That his minds an endless wander, and he always seems to roam. You can catch him on a park bench writing to a beat, or just calmly walking as he takes in the street. He's a nut, he's a genius that's what some might say, but I know the truth, he just writes what he felt and saw that day.