A boy who runs — they call a coward.
A boy who fights — they praise.
But he who fights, responds out of fear,
and he who runs leaves after fighting with himself
for years and years.
We cannot choose our battles,
for then we would always be crowned with victory.
And without defeat, there is no joy,
and with no joy,
there is not sympathy.
A boy who feels/ they slash with their whips
“Stand up straight son!”
Until you collapse, though your knees were not stiff.
We are weathered by the weather;
the sun shines us upon them.
the rain washes us unto the dark days then.
For these changes can be avoided,
so I find myself on the move.
a home with no roof is what I’ve fallen onto.
a boy who digs — they beg to wash his hands
for the dirt of your soul should be left within’ the land.
be a big man. be a tall man. be a rich man.
be a strong man. be a long man.
move along — man
I’ve got a plan
of my own.
Run so far, I’ve lost the signals on my phone.
feel so hard, my heart turns to stone.
I dream for dreams
become lost in inception,
as I run away from these common misconceptions.