When I placed the squares under my tongue,
I opened up a portal in my head to elsewhere.
I never want it closed.
The mistakes I keep making once again make
a grand display on the center stage.
It's coming to a close.

Snake the internal path to a detached land,
hands and arms thrusting a T like Jesus.
I cannot let it close.
Trace the slipping blades of grass with no demand,
but to find my voice, hidden, wherever it lies.
I cannot let it close.

I'm at a stage, where stepping back reveals
my influences have transcended and become me,
when what I need, is to find myself
and then speak.