I'm fighting for a future.
Bright.
To read, and listen, and write.
I know I speak in words untimed.
Half of my **** doesn't even rhyme.
Everything is processed and resolved
In time.
What does it mean to be human to you?
What is it like to constantly move?
What is it like to hold a gun?
On your worst days, what thoughts do you have?
Do you sit and face the facts, or run?
Speak in tongues.
Throw your hands up to the ******* sun.
And scream,
Scream at the top of your lungs.
I am human, and I, by far am not perfect.
I don't believe in perfection, actually.
Because in truth, flaws are reality.
And I've always been a firm believer that beauty is free.
I see it in the form of dead trees.
It's all around us all of the time.
All you have to do is open your eyes.
Just open your eyes.
Open your eyes.
Open your eyes.
And see.
There are deeper depths to the souls you meet.