I am much too strong to be weak. I am sure of it. When I follow the lines of my eyes to see people routinely open up to me, I wonder what it is that makes them think that they can understand what it is that I have been through and what it is that I will think of them. They know that I plan on getting to the heart of the piece. A stranger can never know unless you show yourself.
I show myself in faith of knowing that I am doing it in honesty-- I have survived and I have tales to tell to make you react. Ones about me. Never look at me and think that I don't have anything to say. I do. I may listen to you, but I think of me knowing me through you. It is a story about the walks I have taken and the falls that I have danced under, arms spread, legs open, mind easy like the waters flow on a summers day. I have been tested and you will not break me into fumbling my live on air.
I know that I will fall, but I also know that I have no choice but to survive to be a cosmic traveller. Seeing you in feed and hearing about what it is that you have lost and done with yourself, I watch your lips move and take every breath in watching you like a hawk hunting for prey. I see so many around me fade into forgetting what it is that matters. Simplicity, understanding, confusion in pulses of radioactive aura pollution. If life was easy we could not understand the struggle that is its mystery. Investigative reports you can call my work.
I am not the average reporter. I tell you the things that matter to me. They may not matter to you. I will not sell my soul to institutionalized robotics. I tell my truth but I can lie to myself. If you can let yourself be free to getting to know me, you will not forget me. I have that kind of a position that lays me on top of you from below. I may be short, but you don't want to fuck with me.
I will get to you. One way or another. I will get to you. If you never took the time to know my potential after its immediate abundance in hard hitting questions, you have lost my attention. It is your inability to expand your thoughts that leads you to be a falsified subject of investigation. Now I realize that my potential belongs to me in understanding that you are a statistic in my books of studying circumstance, reality and little actual comprehension. I know this.
I am as sharp as a archers feather when I move in to get your reaction. Caught in the moment, I see you for who you are. Though it may not be what it is that I expected to be the story.