I question day-to-day but not to evaluate.
Here is where I show myself the act of grace.
Twenty-seven.
Is this the age we separate?
Or is this the age we stop the hate?
Will it then be too late to say
I love you to the few.
You know, the ones who knew
and saw only the best in you?
Twenty-seven.
Is this the year I go to heaven?
The year I'll be diagnosed or giving a toast?
Will this be the year they say that I was an icon, a legend?
Is this my fate?
How's that song go again?
"It's funny when your dead, people start listening."
Yet when you're alive all they do is hiss and piss at you,
make fun of everything you do.
I'm astounded by the knowledgable, kind, and passionate, yet
the mean never fail to amaze me.
In truth,
It's as if I've been caught in a daze,
maybe even a haze.
Some may say I'm delusional, but what about you?
Do you question it,
you know...
yourself too?
By twenty-seven,
would you be there too?
With me?
Or is that when you think of
the coulda, shoulda, woulda's and but didn't?
Trust me when I say, I won't hesitate!
I'll accept what is, let go, and flow.
By then, know I'd be flying.
I'd be free to be me.
Forever hyfr.
Always been ready to flee.
Judge me.
I dare you.
I get it.
You do it to yourself.
Lie, okay...
you're dishonest with the self.
Do you need some help?
Enough with the heaving,
maybe by then, I'd be leaving.
Who are we to say?
But I know by next May,
everything will change.
I'm not the best nor worse,
and truthfully, I don't
think there's any of that sort.
It's been years of me rebuilding the fort around my heart.
It's as if it's been continuously shattered apart.
I believe when I'm twenty-seven, I may hit heaven.
and by then, hell yea you'll think-
"damn what a legend."
But now here, I ask you the question:
What is "hell"?
I believe It's all perspective,
perception.
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