I'm scared of my potential
And by not coming on this stage I would just handicap my mental.
Now I could use my hands to trace this stencil
But the picture wouldn't be so pretty.
Because how can you picture what you can't see.
And all I saw was my city.
So I knew nothing better.
Now I'm here with this pitcher full of poison for my soul.
Trying to spew it all out before my insides get old
And I decay until the point where I can't form a thought.
Jail was always chasing me so I tried not to get caught.
Statistics are funny right?
Most can't look past them because they lack sight.
Just praying to God that everything's gonna be alright.

Every top of the hour
I just can't help but see you at the top of the tower.
The sand in the glass getting lower.
Close to the edge
I can see your toes hanging off.
Sand trickling down
Like the time on a grandfather clock.
Where's my grandfather now?
Passing time.
Growing anxious.
You get ready to leap.
Somebody flipped the hour glass
I guess we'll get another chance to meet.

His vision was distorted so he could only see a bent road.
With his bent brow he couldn't help but wonder how.
The wonders of the world being broken down into pieces of nothing.
No longer fertile pieces of land available for use.
He began to lose hope in his ability to avail this world.
Looking six stories down the ground felt as low as his smile.
He grew tired of the seeing the pain these pathways caused.
He brainstormed a plan to create new roads for people to travel on.
Roads that would not corrode and change shape.
Dedicating his whole life to creating beautiful detours to enchanting destinations.

Emotions running rampant in an open field
Like a herd of cows stomping all over the land.
Movements too swift to detect the reasoning.
Switching between logic and feeling.
I just can't seem to make the two connect.
Maybe I can connect four and put the pieces together.
But this isn't a game
And it doesn't come with instructions.
So I'm left scratching my head
Lost

Everything is permissible but not everything is beneficial.
Everything is possible but not everything is legal.
Everything is optional but not everything is acceptable.
Who are you to say you know it all?
Who are you to say humans are the end all be all?
Does your life show omnipotence?
Or does it show fear and uncertainty of the future?
Do you really think you control the universe?
Such arrogance should make you question yourself.
But why would you if you knew everything?
Wouldn't you die if a bullet penetrated your skin?
Imagine me as the gun and this poem as a loaded clip with each word as a single bullet.
Do you feel powerless yet?
The power lies in the creator.

Being inside a poet's mind is as dangerous as being defenseless in the middle of a restless battlefield. Full of so much burning passion that you could get scorched easily if you don't watch your step. A space filled with emotions and colorful language. Emotions and language floating in its own universe. Pieces trying to connect rapidly creating kinetic energy in the mind. So many sparks from the collisions that light is created. Moments of  pure light and moments of pure darkness..

I was the wind blowing aggressively from space to space trying to find something to break and you were the immovable object that only got stronger the more I blew. Gaining compassion a love grew and I became more of a calm breeze to you.