There is some sort of poetry
Rooted deep in sports
Some sort of reveal
Of the human spirit
It can display hard work and heart
Maybe that’s why people tune in
They know
Its art
They know
Its heart
They know
It doesn’t lie
They idolize athletes
For those reasons
But like all artists
Their art isn’t exactly who they are
And holding an artist to a higher standard
Putting them on a pedestal
Making them a idol
It is unfair.
-C.H.
I walked out to the stage Sat down at the grand piano Fiddled with the sheets of music And then turned to the bright lights. The eyes behind the lights were Watching Waiting. I gave them a nod And tur
This mind is not mine Its made up of So many pieces I didn’t choose I have to tear it down And attempt To rebuild With something like My own influence on it This mind is not mine It’s a minefield It’s
The will to power Or The will to love? What is it That drives us in the west? They say It’s power That's the narrative We are fed It’s the lie We believe We are taking everything that makes us human A
