When breathing feels like finite striving
Dead end, a waste of effort
It wasn't you breathing all along

Walking the streets it isn't my body
Breathing the air it isn't my soul
Nourished by the livelihood of all
The rhyme won't flow, image is static
Almost absurdly predictable
Spontaneity covered in layers of soil
Creativity choked to submission

This isn't the WAY, not myself not my life
Still watching it by the side of the bed
That stayed long in the past
Distorted image of unity

Predict your death or start this trip anew
Let in the thrill of truths so eager to erupt
To land on soil that awaits the honest
Shed image blank as page where nothing
Was ever written, nothing but the sound
Not suited for this mediocre guessing game
Your talent chokes without a helping hand
You have the power to transcend
Pain, hope,despair, evil - all arose to greet you
Give them your voice
Experiment with flow
And dream yourself anew
Truthfully