You think you got it all figured out. It All make sense in your head. Until that tinglin starts rumbiling in your chest turns from stress to dread.

Countless minutes you will never get back and the problems you had were few to many and you carried the weight of them upon your back.
The problems were few and now they begin to stack.

The gasp will surely ruin you; when it hits, it attacks. You find the closest thing to you and slide down it with your back. Find yourself layed ruined until you find yourself on your knees and hands. This is the epitome of the broken man. The hardest hit to the heart surely would **** the average man. Yea but you keep going and God just praying you can find your way back. There has to be a reason that this happens to me? Yea well I have faith in time you will begin to see.

Listnen," friend to friend " these things tend too surely pan themselves out. I know noones perfect but you can try to be. But if the risk is too high you can find the balance or try to work something out or in between.

But right now the most important thing you can do is just breathe. Heres a bag, put your head between your knees. Slow down, control the pace of your breathe. think only about overcoming this, just breathe.

-RSC

A massive weight shifts between my shoulders. It’s another fight, I am getting older. One more step, I grow bolder. See me out there, on that thin wire. Juggling my life at the same time trying to aspire. The pain didn’t set me back; it lit in me a fire. Your words sharp like a blade and my heart for hire. Elusive to the noise, I climb higher.
I’m eviserating the catacombs of an empire.
I am not trying to scale the ladder. I’m tearing it down to the mire. I am not dousing the flame, I am feeding the fire.

If we are walk this way, we need to dress the correct attire.

Clearly there is an internal fight, a struggle for power. I am not built to last, I eventually get tired. But the problems that disappeared just reappear taking on another form.
I do my best to keep my balance and keep walking this thin wire.

There is a silence in the noise of a mob
I can feel my heart. The story has to end or at least on my part. Will I hit the net below to sweet depart?

Or Shall I just keep juggling as I walk? It doesn’t matter if they think I am a fool; just as long as I do my part.
Life is a circus, living it is an art.


-RSC