Failure Illuminates And plagues Our accomplishments
"The first bullet To **** by your head Is the scariest," The general said.
"All the rest Are just like Old girlfriends You might catch sight of At the bar."
When we take our own life Into our own hands and Rely on the sincerity of others,
We are playing a game More dangerous Than Russian Roulette.
I take for granted What I have
I dare not to see my Many blessings
For fear of feeling Unworthy
The walls here Do not leak and There are no cockroaches Scurrying underneath My one sheeted bed
The air I breath Is not nuclear and There is no Secret Police Pounding on my door
I am alone To do What I please
When I please
The only rapping That echoes around me Are from the hand's of An unknown creativity
Who put This desire In me?
Who cursed me To never be Satisfied or Free?
How long have the shackles - Rusted and red orange in the sun - Been strapped to my wrists and Gripped around the bases of my ankles?
But To abandon my irons Would be to abandon Myself
Leave myself In the desert sun - The soul begging for Water, for food, for Shelter from the beating flares of sunlight
Where there are questions There are answers
Where there are answers There is rest for some
For others They dutifully Choose not To recognize
Outside my windows the Street workers with their hammers And their sledgehammers pound away To the mad rhythm of this hustling city. History has not forgotten them, But it wants to.
History wants to forget us all. History wants to re-write itself. We want to write ourself to be The divinely chosen Men of the World.
We will never be, We will forever be human. To reach the heavens Would mean death.