Why stop here?
…when I can be so much more?
Why let my ideas fester in an incomplete brain,
or trust my dreams to the stars and watch them fall down with the rain,
or toss my inhibitions into the river wide and watch them sweep away with the changing tides,
or make up in my heart to let love find me and sit around with desperation written on my forehead in Sharpie,
or suppress my fears and anxieties until they bubble over from inside of me,
or only write poems until the edge of the margin,
or snack on temporary fixes while my soul continues starving,
or pump my playlists full of dope beats with empty lyrics instead of look for real art with meaningful messages in it,
or live my life free of regrets but go to sleep at night knowing I just let anything slip,
or forgive myself just to say I did it rather than being inwardly purified and being free from convictions?
It was all ONE QUESTION.
And I ask myself everyday why I should stop at the bare minimum when infinity is my destiny.