Life is meticulous.

it lingers on, trapped

in between the cracks 

of "destiny", and "maybe". 

and everything is shady

or burning in the blaze of 

ray beams ... 

and right now its flaming. 

I'm not sure you can save me. 

I pray to the void daily,

and raise my hands like babies.

but today I'm going out 

in a blaze of bravery. 

The idea is savory 

In fact, the notion rages in me

to face this world with a bold faced lie

and say that I am fine.

And to tell the people that we are all going to be alight ... 

but I am stationary. 

maybe I am still chained to slavery ... 

It makes me play the game responsibly 

and for some reason 

inconspicuously insanely.

Dangling from the puppet strings

of corporate sale schemes. 

with bosses and workers who look the same.

And all of them debating racism that doesn't exist. 

There are no races, in fact ...

I don't see any body winning. 

 

    Dear world: 

Life is very long. 

and if the sun engulfs us tonight, 

please know that I loved you. 

you didn't ask to be born, 

and now you all have to die. 

maybe that is the point. 

I will see you all again. 

I may be leaving,

but I am not running away. 

The muzzle flash to my head feels 

like a gentle  kiss to bed. 

And I am not really bleeding. 

I'm just teaching the white

fabric all the books that I red. 

 

Life is very short. 

We are born, we breath, we die. 

But very few of us live. 

And if our bones break,

if our skin is marred 

if our hearts are burned and scarred 

we did it. 

we lived. 

I promise you,

if you learn to shed tears

you will laugh between them.

On your march to victory, 

you will only reach your detonation 

if you fall on the way. 

Because you make it when you stand up. 

I will be there. 

I'll be screaming with joy

when you join me in glory.