Artistic Chance

July 2, 2008
I am a scribble
scratched through
half written
disguised by lines
with unfinished meaning
for the purpose
of my pathetic at times
abstract existence
that I make powerful
through blessings
engraved in concrete walls
as scriptures
that in small cracks
holds my seeds
that explodes
into my inspirational need to blossom
into a flower
with beauty desired
to have as a bible
a diary expressed by colors
that tie into a ribbon
designed for my movements I let flow
through thick, hard to breathe
but easily inhaled particles
that make the invisible killer air
that accepts forces of nature
but would rather exhale my truth
and pure dignity
that intoxicates
those who listen to print come alive
as it plays off beat
but somehow on key
in darkness now bright
that makes words dance
and me exceed my limits of reach
because now
my fingertips are burnt
from remembering my goal in life
to touch a star
and have a growth spurt towards the heavens and float with my dreams
that were once
just doodles so plain
on black thoughts
now masterpeices
that are displayed in a gallery
that expands across the universe
stretching from blue skies
to the fiery hell
that burns the tips
but not the entire picture
of my mistakes, promises, and beliefs
that I can be great
for greatness is brainstormed and thought out before found
that I am equivalent to clouds, queens, mountains, most of all rainbows
and things of no explanation
for I am the chance
to hold the key
to open the doors
of spoken word's future

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