I can walk on hot coals to the corner of the world, write 1000 words, unpleasant, yet intriguing and call it my demise.
i can isolate my thoughts from what my eyes are seeing as you stand in front of me, projecting words into my face i so longingly do not want to hear.
i can be selfish, walk into a room and become solitude in a space in a corner, and call it my serenity.
and i can be a joke to you, but perfect to others, i am the master of myself and i control the melancholy inside me.
to the analysts and silent silhouettes in the background, i demand you step into my spot light and take center stage.
are you up for a challenge in seizing my indomitable autobiography i have yet to end?
to the mistakes that injected into my life,
i did not request you to rain on me.
i am not saying sorry to something invisible, yet powerful, and i will never apologize to the forces that bring me down.
and to my legacy yet to come, my life is not pre-arranged, i awake like its a rebirth of my soul.
the end is unsuspected - an inspiring homage to the power of my thoughts.
i pour my heart into what is oh so unseen, yet an admiring piece of paper, in which my imperfect thoughts are uniquely displayed.
