Overcoming my circumstance, it’s been a bit of a dance for a few steps forward.
I'm still behind my power curve; I've been walking at a dead sprint.
Like complimentary breath mints, A false sort of fancy.
Chancy to say, but ill bear the egg, I plan to supersede my roots.
Boots dug deep, ill crack the chains that hold me down.
Take wing with the winds, refuse the lead weighted crown.
Though it is painted gold, it’s a fools goal to hold.
Wrapped in the fold of ones wings, is all a soul needs to sing.
What dreams can come if you but dare.
Triumph over the gorgons stare.
Through many traps on the stairway to beyond poverty.
carrying nothing wont bother me, as long as I laugh happily.
Over come where I'm from, that’s goal number one.