Lane

Floating on a cloud in my own lane. Dirt in my corner pocket, some things never change. Can’t see the bigger picture, for the frame. Growth, being stagnant or death either way nothing remains the same. I want the world to better than when I came. Quite comfortable, a silent fame. At peace and healed by the pain of forgiveness starting with myself; how far I’ve came. I survived the water, stones, and flames. Anyone that counted me out, can’t count…that’s insane!! For the slow ones, I’m keeping it simple and plain. I’m staying in my own lane. It’s in your best interest that you do the same.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community

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