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.