Sometimes I feel… like the things I aspire to be are out of my reach and…
since the class tells me to “be real” I fail to see them.
But I still hear the words in my head when I go sleep and…
hit my pillow when I wake up from bad dreaming.
Guess I’m weak as they want me to be. Weapon concealing…
see the fire within my eyes but can they feel it?
I want you to burn every time I touch this ceiling.
Now tell me it’s made from glass when I break this bitch in..
and it shatters down with gravity to your iris.
Can you see me now? I doubt it. Like I felt when me, you doubted.