Who are we really?

We're all human beings on the outside, covered in flesh and filled with blood

But beyond that,

                                       Who are we really?

Are we good?
What is good?

Are we bad?
What is bad?

We're living, but are we actually a l i v e ?
What does alive mean, actually?

We're all breathing,
But what does that mean?

Deep down, inside
                                             Who are we really?

before you **** yourself,
just remember
that there are
places you have not been
and things you have not seen.
and poems to awe
art to draw
fields to walk through,
people to talk to,
music to take in,
games to win,
and books to be read.

so why,
oh why
do you wish
to be dead?

I get high off of watching preconceived notions of self go up in flames
Off of knowing that my words were the spark
and the breaths between them the wind that fed the fire
Off of watching the phoenix rise from the ashy remnants of it’s former being
Off of my heartbeat echoed in the beating of its wings

Knowing that I wrote the song this new bird sings.

What's it all about?
It's time
To figure
It out

You can't decide if you're a good or bad person

                                So you create a version of yourself you want to be

Are you an artist?
                                                                     Or a lie?