I always set the bar too low for people,
as if to not get too broken when things don't work out,
but then I continue to raise the bar when it comes to me,
Setting it too high like placing my desires out of reach,
I raise myself to hold past the max of promises,
past the max I can take in my world,

I never understood why,
I thought it was smart to set my bar so high,
It keeps me from flying,
but sometimes I grab some air,
and then once I get going,
I am soaring,
until I hit the bar,
and the only soaring left to find,
is soaring down below,
getting father away from where I began,

Why do we have to fall so hard,
why do we believe we can do all these wonderful things,
when we cant even do the little things,
when sitting up in bed,
is the hardest part of my day,
and I am not praised by you or even me,
on the days I can do it on my own,
without the force of others making me do it,

that the thing I hate the most,
when your pushed so far,
when your not ready to do it,
when your not ready to move on up,
how come others expect so much for you,
when you ask for so little from them,
what gives them that right,
to put you up so ******* high,
that your never going to meet their standards,
not even half way,
what then?

Isolation creeps in,
and you shut out who you can,
and sometimes your never ready to start again,
but sometimes,
you manage to get up just enough,
as you grab the bar,
and pull yourself up,
and the bar will fall down,
to meet you at the bottom,
and help you re work your way up there.

Born into this world free,
at our starts,
we've been made equal,

as we grow like a flower from a seed,
our nature leads us to break away,
at the beauty that it holds so dearly,

and once we are free'd,
we have also handed over our self control,
as we start to journey into the unknown.

we join into our society,
create our communities,
as we are made one with the residents of our territories,

tallying up our ballots
to determine the majority,
and voice our opinions as one,

but what becomes of the controversy?
the Runner up to the majority?
and who has the right to cast the ballot?

only men,
only those of white skin,
only those of a prosperous breed.

Those whom are never controlled,
but wish to take the repelled as there property,
as the pursue of others seem to end in only their benefits,

imported men bound to nonnative men,
by those whom forgotten their own native skins,
Forgotten they also traveled across the sea,

and back as they force imported men over sea,
as shiploads roll in,
with the contents of labor bearing men,

The Fixed majority binds those of minority,
Women, Children and Imported men,
to their fateful aftermath,

Eventually as we grow,
The Majority begin to release their control.
The minority stands up to the ******* they with held.

They fight for their rights,
and they last for their life,
The nightmare more pleasant to handle.

They don't hold back their pressing manners,
They don't fall two steps back to only move forward one.
They don't back down to those out to damage them.

The compromise is far from completion.
as the lack of freedoms still create more conflicts,
thus having to re-compromise again,

Those bound to religion and other establishments,
creates the fear of change for men,
the resistance leads to hate,

Hate towards people who must judge on face value,
rather than seeing a person past their appearance.
to the point of formation of organizations to patronize these people more.

those who suffer from these acts,
are still stuck inside the past,
they can't be happy for something they barely have.

They suffer silently,
hopping their dreams will one day come true,
to be equal without the needs for laws to make you to,

To feel actual equality
without the labels they have been given from society,
to feel their birth given rights in effect.

Some who suffer say it's worthless to keep trying,
even though their moment ended with people dying,
The cause is worth the fulfillment of those who suffered back then,

And back then the rolls were set in stone,
where women couldn't hold their own,
but now we face men and women trying to change.

The rolls will stay the same,
and they will flip flop and duplicate,
where everyone gets a ballot to voice their say,

Where dreams that reach from sea to shining sea,
will one day be able to breathe and shine through,
But dreams don't shine through,

not all are free from their marginalization.
not all are free to make their accusations,
not all people are born into the rights of freedoms.

Our nation has defaulted and defamed their citizens,
unless inside an arms race, then we are free to die next to each other,
before attending a meal together,

our nation is built by those who ran away from oppression,
those whom tried to grant their families a new beginning,
those whom have now moved away from their old traditions,

we are trying to make room for the change,
we are trying to make room for our voices,
we have been trying to make room for our dreams,

but somewhere along they way,
our dreams have started to fade away,
as our pride as an american is declining at the fastest rate,

their are too many dreams trying to take place,
when we change this and change that,
we forget to change ourselves,

we forget our morals and views,
we have forgotten the golden rule,
we need to treat others like we would treat ourselves,

roll of child, women, man, aside,
difference of Skin, Hair, or even Eyes,
difference of heritage gender and age too,

what I do to you,
should be taken with meaning,
and If I can't respect you.

should you respect me?
The core of our problems have a trace,
attitude is desire for the outcome.

America is never going to stay the same,
day by day America and its people constantly change,
And there's no escape.

bad designs have already been built.
on the verge of collapsing from all the guilt.
aged and longstanding no wonder we face the inevitably,
as what has been built will now dwindle away as ironically,
wilted petals will do the same,
disintegration of what we had is defamed,
a shattered frame never goes addressed,
with too many problems we just left,
but I guess maybe it was best.

we lost everything,
and still never learned anything.
we have nothing left to say.
just the rusted frame like our doorway,
we don't have to knock to be heard.
but watch your step so nobody gets burned.
because it hurts as memories flood in,
making you cry as tears scorch your skin,
you begin wondering what could of been.

and then you stop,
and drop into the doorway as you take the mats spot,
your the one fading into the wreckage,
sinking away fast before you can find a new direction.
Shattered and vanishing away,
but you never left the rusted doorway,
your looking to escape the battered zone,
you know your grown,
enough to handle the pain on your own.