Ever since I was a little kid
My grandparents would compliment my imagination
I would go on tangents telling stories on a whim that made no sense
Even now I have no idea what I was talking about
But it didn’t matter, I just said the first words that came out of my mouth
As I grew up I began to notice something… Strange
No matter what I did I never seemed to really live
The first time I performed a poem I was 15
That day I had never felt so alive in my life
And I knew… That meant something
The words I wrote came straight from the heart
From a chorus of a thousand voices telling me exactly what to say
Until that day I didn’t know what really made me tic
That day I learned I was a broken clock who was numb until I was wound up
Every time I went to write was I started to work
I am a stationary being who only moves when I have a movement behind me
I find that my best moments are not my accomplishments on paper
But rather the people my ink on paper has changed
I live to please, that’s what I always tell people
My mind both push me to suicide and pulled me away
Because now adays for every one sad voice in my head
I have a thousand drowning them out
But it’s not always that way
Those rhymes that people say don’t hide the mental bruises that actually occur
Years of unseen mental abuse leads me to question ever but about me
So excuse me if I don’t give a shit when I complement you
Excuse me if I think I could blindly run into a city and get that same complement from a thousand other people! Even if it means getting hit by a few cars in the process
I don’t sleep because there are a thousand voices giving me doubt
I don’t sleep because they tell me the wonderful things I dream of doing
And I fade away to dreams only to live them all with an audience in my head
I may go no where, hell no one may ever read this
But if I can just change one persons bad judgement
Then I’ve done something right
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