My mind is racing. My shoulders are heavy from the burdens I carry from the past.

Memories are forever, there is no altering longevity.

Currently I find myself tip-toeing backwards while the future is whispering, “come to me“.

I have to be all I can be, except I find myself at delinquencies doorstep.

Throwing boulders through glass; unfortunately this is my dream house.

Who dared to arouse these feelings of superiority?

Mistakenly believing I control my fate, and can wooo it in to falling in love with destiny.

My days are challenged by just waking up, ironically I refuse to lay down.

Often when I think there’s nothing left to say, I tend to repeat myself.

The same message, with some different words, and a similar rhythm to a piece you may have heard.

—

Understand

You don’t have to listen to me, like my style, or quote every line;

However,

I do ask that you feel apart of what I write, because I rather not use my hands to touch you.

I’d much rather let my words set in place for the feast your will devour.

Served with sweet dreams, soulful auras , a breast sided with pieces of my heart, and a wholesome mind — all catered to you on a silver platter.

While you’re asking questions, like

“what’s that pink matter?”

“what’s the grey matter?”

Answering your questions with my curiosity.

“Why does color even exist?”

Blessings in disguise.

Would there be judgements if we weren’t aware of the color of wealth?

Would the word savage exist?

Once I was asked, “What is Power?”

I balled up my fist and raised my arm. I am Power in it’s fullest existence.

You can seek my name in a dictionary, but you would fail at discovering a definition.

No image  is worthy enough to moderately depict this.

This being the reason I create masterpieces with writing instruments.

Judgements are endlessly passed. I’m intrigued by the witnesses.

Every prosecution plead to the 5th.

In life every one makes mistakes — I’m just tired of defending it.

What is “It” ?

It is who I am, what I want, and how I plan to become accomplished .

Tho when I do,

Forgiving will be the death of me because Forgetting is despair.

-Leighrick