Dead Man Walking

As I walk this cold and stormy life, hidden stones cause me to fall others to wait.

Looking back, I’ve had monuments that stood out as great experiences,

Others were dwarf encounters.

No matter how our moments lie whether large or small, scattered or aligned,

They had a impact on us and other people

 

When I die to be born in heaven, what will happen to what I leave behind?

Will there be enough words to voice a thought

Enough strength to lift a page

Will there be enough clarity to see my words

Will there be enough songs to sing

Enough hands to pray

 

I am a messenger

I use the pen as the microphone

The ink as the song, words as the voice, and emotion as the tone

I live as a dead man walking

Seeking to find real life

I hope to die living in the hearts of those left behind

Even when my voice has silenced

Creative mind stilled

Remember when the light seems to darken that I simply moved on,

The light changes shades and the words are silently said

You must die to live, but you don’t live to die

You have truly died when you left no impact,

Your life talked with no words, you left no smile or stood up for nothing.

 

Exhuming the past will decay the future

Penetrating buried memories resurrects the curse of mental anguish

 

In this life, people will shoot your thoughts down without looking at the target

Others write without ink, some drive without wheels,

Others hit the gas instead of the brakes

 

Life is an equation, inspiration the sum, what you add to society is left up to you

I was raised from emotional falling; I contemplated where few thought,

I write what is real

I was rejected for what was right. It was a drug like me who has been through so much

But my dream is that now while I am living, make an impact for those in need

To walk on the life that is left to live.

Like every poet before, my final words are now yours

Many people come to interpret the world; it is left up to you to change it