"What
kind of task is that?" My mother would ask.
"To
inspire the world with an artistic mask?"
I could feel
the wrath and a near heart attack.
"but that's who I am" I responded back.
And then caught my tone, see I had yelled it back.
And I then got the feeling my whole life, I slacked.
But I won't
get time back if I argue and snap,
See I needed
that push, I just needed that slap.
But I thank her, and yes, now I'm back in a trap
And after she called it, I followed her tracks.
And after she called it, I followed her tracks.
See success
is so simple, its just white and it's black
If you get
past that grey and accept the hard facts.
Dear Mother,
I can explain, though I don't take that back
When i'm writing
so zealously thoughts come in packs
And if they're not released, the consumption is fast
for these words
liberate me of wrongs in my past.
But I DONT own a mask, still silly ol' P.
Im so full of ambition, though it may not seem.
And this life made me wiser, more hungry, more true.
So don't think that I think that I'm better than you.
Cuz they might
hit the "like" and so many will hate
They might
even degrade or try to replicate.
They might
even do both - mom, respect is so rare.
To me fire
and ice is the same everywhere.
I will face it and make it, stare fear in the face,
I know failure just comes to those suckers who wait.
So I started an army, went from feeling so blue
To just finally letting our dreams follow through
And we stand at attention, we always stay true
And we stand at attention, we always stay true
And take care of this business... to you I SALUTE!
Love, P.
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