?

A poet will never give up because a poet always wishes to be more. A poet will always accept life threw observation but at the same time he or she wishes to be and see more. I crave success like a a starving lion craves blood. The taste of success is sweet yet bitter to know this will never be enough much like the lion I need to survive. So I do it thriving in books lost in my own observations contemplating why how and who. I see but what I feel is more and what I wright will never be enough to scratch the surface of what this feeling really is.

When you accept the comforting thought of love and when you fear it all at the same time. Well time and time again I have drown in my own pain but yet, afloat I am and my lungs continue to pump the air I breath. My heat beats slow and fast at the same time because love is daunting, exhilarating, and comforting all at the same time.

The One Who Is I Am.

One who moves threw walls bares a stuttered speech. One who is is a number waiting to be a name. I am the one who seeks the light that shines through our hearts or the light that dies with the turning of the seasons. Weather its kicking, breathing, screaming I will come out singing.

I am the number waiting to be a name yet I am also the one who moves threw walls. Like a ghost I am unique in ways that turns thought into contemplation, but none see or will ever know. I the one who fails daily, but never accepts defeat. One who will only give up when my lungs stop breathing.

I am the one like many who wishes to be something. I am that something and I will be that something someday. Every day I will be thankful for every hour I get to breath. Its far to hard to be angry at my self, its the effort I do not have, its the worthless, pointless movement we all neglect to accept and far to stubborn to stop. I would rather use my every ounce of effort for somebody to observe and know the path I lead.