Is it possible to be all things?

Is it out of my range?

To be a star, in the midst of abysmal waters.

To be a vibrant man, in the midst of unfortunate shortcomings.

To be a cultural kid,
If hop hop is dead…

Can I be the revival?
That’s pretty wild too —

The fact that I search for freedom but allow chains to latch onto my hollow soul that swallows black and spits out light.

I am brown, external,
Internal, I am white.

Whole wise, I am human.
Do you see my light?

This struggle, this antagonistic fight and mind of mine.

Battling inside, but outside I’m fine.

Where do I cross the line, and embrace my totality.
I don’t want to turn down, like a light switch on battery.

I want to be Tesla.
I want to be precious.
I want to be righteous.
I want to be electric.
Eccentric, no, I want to be hectic, chaos, all.

I want to be eclectic, never pretentious.
I want to be accepted.

It took my heart to pen this.
She took away my heart for ransom.
And now I am penned in.
So now I am releasing, and cutting all pretension.

I want to be relentless, in my journey and sentence.

Free and independent,
I want to be my own sentence.

I want to wear my words, in essence, and grow from my curses, and lessons.

That ultimately frees my soul, from the cultural expression.
To grow.

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