Everybody got a script with my name in the margins,
Talk like the ending’s already been carved in.
Read me in pieces, skip the whole context,
Call it the truth when it barely’s a concept.
Built me a ceiling and painted it sky,
Said, “Don’t reach higher,” then asked me why
I keep going past it, cracking the plaster,
Chasing daylight they swore didn’t matter.
Every opinion’s another brick laid,
Heavy enough to make a backbone cave.
Smile for the room, but the room feels staged—
Living in a mirror where the glass gets changed.
So I keep my breath low, let the silence answer,
’Cause I know what they see when they fill in the blanks…
Funny how doubt leaves the deepest stain.
Head full of static, can’t find the station,
Thoughts ricochet through a house in renovation.
Heart in a footrace with every expectation,
Feet in cement but I’m still chasing greatness.
Noise on noise, got the dial red-lining,
Every “you won’t” got perfect timing.
Every false ending they keep rewriting—
I keep surviving, that’s bad for the typing.
Can’t hear peace with the crowd narrating,
Can’t see north with the compass shaking.
Everybody sure of the road I’m taking…
Funny—I ain’t even turned the page yet.
And that’s the part they miss when they call it weather—
You don’t know me ’cause you know my weather.
Storm hit once, now it’s “storms forever.”
Treat one chapter like the whole damn letter,
Guess it’s easier than reading me better.
So I wear my silence like chainmail now,
Not ’cause I’m weak—’cause it shuts the crowd out.
Every loose end they keep tying around
Turns into rope when you’re trying to drown.
Funny how fear gets passed like heirlooms,
Hand-me-down heart in a hand-me-down room.
I’m sweeping dust off a future in bloom,
While they keep measuring roots, not fruit.
But I can feel the ground start giving way,
So I take that weight and turn it to fuel—
Nah…
I’m not the rumor, the record, the replay.
Not what I looked like on my worst day.
Not every version they boxed in a display.
Watch me redraw every line that they gave.
Pressure makes diamonds—or pressure makes dust.
Difference is what you decide to become.
I quit asking mirrors if I was enough…
Started asking mountains, “Y’all moving or what?”
If I break, then I’ll break into better.
If I bend, I’ll remember my center.
Every dead end just another projector—
Showing me walls ain’t forever.
And now that I see it, I don’t need the proof—
I can hear the next step cutting through the noise…
I hit overload—don’t call it folding.
Whole world loud, but I keep my own pulse.
Every “I told you” gets buried by growth.
Every closed fist can’t choke out hope.
They drew conclusions before I drew breath,
Measured my future in somebody else’s steps.
Now every footprint says I’m still here—
Still moving.
Cause I’m not outrunning people—
I’m outrunning echoes.
Echoes fade.
I don’t.
