I have a poem that one day

We can stand side by side

Marching forward to the lands of the future

That we lift up spirits instead of breaking them

Taking the spirits and molding then into fine china

That is irreplaceable to the naked eye.

 

Mom I know you want me to become a doctor

But remember Martin Luther King Jr. wasn't a doctor

But I can find other ways to heal the world

Let me take my pen and my penicillin 

Write prescriptions of inspiration towards those who want it

Mom I know you want me to be a lawyer

But I'm not going to defend on what is not true

The only truth that I know is inspiration

 

Back then inspiration was found in the corner of your house

Now it's just ants because everyone is crushing the little guys

We can make greater and bigger things for posterity 

If we just put it back at the corner again

And mom I know that this world is a crazy one

But you got to let me spread my wings

And spread a jelly of inspiration with this pen, or this pencil

Or even the crimson that swims through my veins

So mom please, I don't mind the career choices

But my career is to inspire

So mom, let me write