Every time I look forward
I see what I want on a string,
being hoisted by nothing I see,
but it’s everything I greed.

Everything else around is a blur
as my vision is motioned forward
to keep on ogling what’s pure
from the standards set by my eyes.

All the yelling and the screams
that tell me I’m consumed by dreams,
because they never will become real,
is not what my heart feels.

Instead, the flavor of maybe
that’s coated with the seasoning of desire,
heats within my mental oven
until perfection hoards all of my energy.

Just one more day
or maybe a little more action
is all I hear to push me
towards more satisfaction.

Don’t go into the light,
is what many cowards have said,
but I will go into that fright;
it’s better than regretting when I’m dead.


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