Fresh Air
Sitting in the pad holding a pen and this pad
I know you’re, like, “Who still writes in long-hand?”
I do, it helps me collect my thoughts but it’s sad
At times, I use the pen as a crutch to feel like a strong man
Because I’m not perfect, even though I strive for that metric
I admit I get complacent & talk myself out of reaching
For the stars, telling myself the journey will be too hectic
And that everything I need is here & there’s no use breaching
The atmosphere, the stratosphere, better known as my potential
But then I look around & I’ll see my peers’ work on television
Then I look around & see myself on the sofa, inconsequential
All grinds ain’t the same; sometimes you’ve got to sell your vision
To yourself, as wild as that sounds, it can be the actuality
’cause you can be your biggest supporter and your biggest detractor
Diminishing your wins only puts your mind in alternate realities
Focusing so much on your losses only increases the fear factor
Telling you all of this is helping to give me some clarity
A short jaunt’s in my future, I need to unwind my thoughts
In all sincerity, some fresh air will do me good with celerity
Refocus, redirect my energy so all my work won’t be for naught
Tomorrow ain’t promised & neither is the rest of today
So you must produce and take control, you can not fold
People are hungry for the fruits of your labor and play
Plus, sleep’s the cousin of death, and fortune favors the bold
Listening to instrumentals is essential for my mental
The path’s already charted in my head, I just have to traverse it.
So, farewell for now, as I reorient my steps to this occidental
Trail so that my progress moves forward & I don’t reverse it.
Think Ink|Thinq Inq 