the roads up my forearm are bumpy, the tracks that once lead me everywhere, now drive me nowhere.
the true nature of prosperity lives within me, a lost cause as labeled by the many but through a never ending relationship with poetry and enriching novelist that same road has forsaken all odds
I can truly say i’ve been liberated, can you? the men who once laughed at me are
now in pain, i know so because it’s in our very own veins and bones that serve us.
our very own body designed modestly and effortlessly to depict depth beyond
comprehension,
the road you are taking, or have taken before will not define where you will land. all roads are bumpy one way or another, your cuts and bruises are merely a show of battle scars you’ve endured throughout your own endless journey
since the day you opened your eyes to a glorified essence to the last day you woke,
know this, the journey that lead you through and over the roads was not a lesson but a unexplainable rugged thing we call prospering.