Steps

Small feet make large craters in the streets
Weakness - apparition of defeated minds
Mine born to shine
Tempest winds born to die

Hollowed out bodies call out of divine guidance
His intervention - loosened grip on responsibility for your decisions
Twisted wicked intentions deceived in misguided intuitions.

I heard it all before
“Yous a teacher”
“Yous a preacher”
“Yous a leader”

I'm just reaching for an impact on a generation with little chance to come back

“You’re delusional”
“You’re unconstitutional”
“You’re unusual”

Bitch, I’m musical - suitable to introduce you at your funeral.

A beautiful juvenile truthful soul who opened his mind and heart
Then coasted off on cruise control.

So if the truth was told on your open door
You'd curse the porch and search for the gun
My hands raise slowly brushing the sun
A show down now begun

I could turn now, and run
Heavy is the step in the chosen ones

Unfiltered power develops in the grip of the coward
Sweat beats down wondering if this is the appointed hour

He’s towering over me and im six foot one

Glup - I say wait
The coward contemplates - inner debates grin on the face

He chuckles - “I own this place, my property, your philosophy; faulty and I take offense
I need proper wording - to turn this killing into self defense.”

My shoulders tensed, arms wince, quaking with fear for so long.
I bargain, cutting away the jargon.
“Let me walk back to the fence, you’ll never see me or hear my songs”

He clicks teeth with a sharp Tsk - “Aw, shit — you jumbled my wits, now I gotta deliver these hot hollow tips so the world never forgets the power that you exist.”

In my mind, deep searching — how my feet lead me here to witness these feats.
Birds tweet as I face the possibility of final defeat.

Children play in the distance while I’m showing resistance.
This isolated violence transcends into deep meaning.

The background grounds reality — hides what’s truly happening.
It’s maddening that obedience births these experiences.

Allegiance to the other side is mistaken for brilliance.
And an audience would pray for leniency —

While I’m blamed for vibin’ at a different frequency.
Ill-treated, no hope of basic human decency.

Then it dawns on me — sorcery or secrets to keep?
How am I human, yet feel so much more than me?

So what do I want?

Gather all the knowledge and hoard it in me?
Unbottle lust and whore it with me?
Build unlimited stacks and store with me?
Bottle all my anger and have a Molotov cocktail with me?
Spit upon the medals you earned and laugh with me?
Sit and watch it all burn and do nothing breathing normally?
Reach the top and quote it was only me?

Then wonder why he cursed the fig tree. . .
Or why did he follow a path that came with beatings?
Why does he drink from the bitter cup?
Or heal the lame knowing his suffering would be enough?
Why didn’t he turn the stone into bread? I couldn’t say I do the same.

Contemplative thoughts exercise my brain.
Bleeding my own questions in creative ways.
Wondering if its purpose or self service that keeps me enduring my own pain.

Is it purpose or pride?
The answer only you can provide.