Walking onto this stage,
Feels more like a cage to a faceless audience
They're out there looking for answers,
They're asking what you would do
Until you wake up and there isn't a soul in the room
Except the walls are personified and they're screaming at you
"What's your life plan, kid?"
"That's ridiculous, you should just quit."
"You can do more, even your best is a dead end street."
"Wipe the smile, this is work, you don't deserve to enjoy it."
I quit trying to ever write for anyone but own
So why do I feel like the crowd keeps growing?
They keep asking where I come up with the words to continue,
This eidetic memory makes me relive everything I've been through
My future self is making these poems take form
I'm Link and this is my Song of Storms.
So when I take a breath, I know my time isn't due
Felt the warmth of the day, made it a night without harm.
Standing out on this stage,
I realize this whole image is useless,
Throw down the mic and give a face to the faceless
I don't have much time, don't make me second guess if I waste it.
It's funny, the nameless strangers tell me I'm killing this game.
The people who speak frequent act like the hydra has 50 heads unslain.
I'm confused how people seemlessly seem to relate success with stress
They're ****** I paved a path without losing my mind
These walls can scream all they want
I'm self-made and made it my own, the audience is blind.
