In a world full of everyone who knows themselves,

I enter this world confused and afraid.

At times ashamed,

Having a heart, yet ignorant in how to use it,

Is like having a paint brush and a canvas,

And they gift of painting yet, not having a muse.

Will my life be in vain?

If so whose fault will it be?

The pain that is felt, at times is too real,

Open wounds never given time to heal.

When only hate is given love seems to lose its appeal.

Drawn into a world unseen by virgin eyes,

Every Time I inhale this poisonous air, I die.

The atmosphere still when I enter,

Heartbeats are heard louder than the

Rumbling of thunder on a stormy night.

The fear of life outweighs the fear of death tenfold.

As I stand on the brink of insanity,

Killing myself over choosing from wrong and right.

I guess my true fear is getting old

Or not being old enough,

And dying before my legacy is complete.

Now tell me, with the history of my predecessors…

How can I compete?