Been chasing all the pretty things in life, a perfect brick house down the lane, ebony carved woodworks along the porch. What reveals a person better than possessions’n positions? The pretty things of life, somehow seem petty.
Dousing the fire, calling me burnt. Layers of acquired identity. A Litchi- rough on outside, soft sweet a little inside- tough and hollow ‘seeded’ within. Have I damaged myself before I built me? Taped together wings, but flight I ensure. A little better, a little sooner, if only I left the nest.
Gliding across words, grinding for numbers. When did my heart become silent? When I asked it to. Why? They asked me to. Where I’d dance around in empty hallways, I drag along the jammed highways. Scorching journey to a place they call pretty.
Catching fish by the sea, now fishing numbers in the ocean. Life’s offered a beehive with a thousand buzzes- every bee has their share of honey, but who wins the sweetest nectar? Be fast, be ahead, do better- be the best. The same rant, again’n again. Best? Yes. But I’ll be MY best.
{ Define yourself. }
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