States...changes in emotion and form that I revisit
Where I state my mission sent by ambition
The gardens through which minds have driven
but withered are the roses that I envisioned
When I rose from my slumber to see that I's (eyes) imprisioned
My eye can't witness so I'm blinking through an idle prism
Where the light shone too bright,
disperesed through my transistions
Positions shifting upon the chess game that I've conditioned
While Im trying to make sense of it all...the flight and the fall.
Landing is possible...
everything is just as lost as it is logical when you overthink the obsticles
Walls are felt, not seen.
If senses make sense, then I hear concrete and smell the sky
clouds tell condense stories, then cry
dancing in air...suspended like dreams
in a realm out of reach...
This my mind can teach
My heart can unlearn
This pen is my chisle...
I will carve poetry into your walls until they collapse
This pen is my needle...
I will pump poetry into my heart until it understands.
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