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I am meant to be a voice, not an echo. But to create echos, I first need to be a voice. Echo the passion, the message, the freedom, to anyone and everyone all around world.
MONEY A new young money runs this town In new flashy cars latest in town Owns mansions at every nook and cranny And all the floozies throw at his feet People worship all my goldmines
A crayon Teaches a hand to create Colorful dreams onto white walls Coloring outside the lines No limits for each color A pencil Writes a love letter at 3 am
Everyone you have ever met, has left an impact on your life. Whether you’ll remember it or not. Sometimes the ones who leave the biggest imprint on your life are the ones you’ll never meet.
Homestead arrival and Another greeting by routine The plan laid out Simple and clean
They bark, They roar, They tweet, They squeak. These 2 legged, 4 legged, 8 legged friends Will be my influences until the end. They have taught me to be passionate.
Because you were friends with a couple of Britons, Because you wanted to help girls help their country and others, Because you founded Girl Scouts.
Those hazel eyes reflected her smile, The tiny feet ran to me, A jump into my arms was all it took, And my little girl in blue was she.
A young girl from the Southside Where cats shoot dice In the sky Gwendolyn cools the air Smog separates the city These rich folks don’t come round ‘here The city of the violet Heart of the violence
My Influence is that of a bird A bird whom leaves its nest to live My Influence is that of whom could fly Whom could soar high above the rest My Influence is that of a Believer
The spider had crawled in from the depths of the unknown The girl, seeing the creepy crawler, screamed to her bones Oh, wait a minute! Amongst the shadows in the dark Lies a man as strong as a shark
It only takes one person to influence another. A teacher is a great example. A teacher's words can guide and inspire. A teacher can come into one's life at the right time. A teacher uses experience to influence.
Match strikes box Friction becomes flame Slowly, steadily The hand stretches to reach its goal. 1920s, New York A young woman,
You see me in the smoke Circling your chimney, Ever-present yet peripheral. If only you knew... Even fire can't keep you warm. You feel the embers of a flame
Always have open eyes to the world around you And open ears to the sounds that surround you But if it is negative thoughts or words being said Dont let them in for they will surely drown you
I heard the reflection of an iceberg is you when you renew your vision Tell me how to get clarity with my wrong decisions I guess my heart is a toy, did i fail to mention
All I needed throughout the nights along the long and winding roads where mind meets soul is the sweet symphony in my heart pulsing through my veins the timpani drums enclosed beneath muscle and tissue
Who am I? Well to answer your question I must first answer the question of what I am not
My mental pen is at it again.
A eight-year does not sit in the summer grass and think up their future selves. They think of the next glass of kool-aid and where their "pet" frog went.
america bbq and Budlight corporations
I will look upon a normal tree, Robust trunk and swinging leaves, Then realize I wanted a flower. I’ll tell myself it could be one, Then it is, the transformation done, Less of a tree with each passing hour.
“Never let the pains of a torn soul tear you,” The words of myself to myself. A difficulty like no other,
I really like your style girl but I hate the fact that you wild, play this game always ends the same is this how it all goes down?
In 5,4,3,2,1 The words I will here when I sit in front of the camera at my dream job It will be more than a job it will be a career Getting the story, delievering the story, and the greatest part networking
I pledge allegianceto the mediaof the United States of Americaand to the partyfor which it speaksan entire nationunder the influenceuninformedwith propaganda and deception for all.
Today’s a new era, a very extreme era. Society today, well, it could be better. Influence today is disgustingly vulgar,
The sand, the water, all so Beautiful Recovered from a past of Ashes Earthquakes, hurricanes, Drought, Mother Earth filled with Rage, Avenging the world of the Abusive Humans; the corrupt, the reckless
I make mistakes from time to time. You tell me who the hell is perfect? Yeah, I may cause ah little trouble But I like to believe I'm worth it. You look at me and see pointless Well baby I see potential.
Struggling from a poor village, many dreams of freedom and peace. Im off to make an effort to this privallege The day has come im on my way to succeed. Days and nights of struggles and fear,
This is the story of tragedy immemorial.A tale of endless woe.I hope you'll learn from the mistakes.Made by two really quite bitter foes.
i live to be ill, for the thrill, keep it trill and if you walk into my house I'll be sending you a bill i dont need no money, but i get it tho i don't complain, it's insane, the way im stackin doe
I complete by marryin that girl dominique until i realized she ain't got the best physique The was the second strike cause her heart wasn't right she was intercoursing just out of spite
Click A sound is heard Tick Another chimes Knock A common noise Tock A secret song Creak Alone just chaos Squeak Together form music Ching Annoyance to some DingHarmony to otherBong Ignored by speed Dong Embraced by patience
It’s music note coming at you Throwing these facts down so you’ll understand where I’m coming from I mean the point of me stating these facts
You, girl. Wee girl. Oblivious to the world that surrounds you. The vultures, the animals. Creatures we call people. They'll wine you, they'll dine you, They'll rip you to shreds.
I'm a faucet of emotions when my pen strikes the page Clarity and bliss engage while my song plays Melody and word possess the key to my cage, I'm locked in the cell of routine of everyday life
Sex. Parties. Drugs. It’s claimed that’s "life" by people who call themselves "thugs". Tell me why are these artists called artists? Convince me that my generation doesn’t react to this.
I will wait for your mark. Blank stares as you manipulate me, sway me with your words abuse me to spread hate or enlighten the other masters for I am your slave waiting for your mark.
Hi new friend Tell me how ya doin’ Very pleased to meet you My name is Influence Do you believe in me? I’m sure you don’t But I’ll show you some things Your parents won’t!
Run Jack, run, For they merely Do not see That unto thee That they cast Their stones and Harsh crosses made Of the wood of Trees of ignorance And doubt pronounced
Thing is, The days she wakes up With dread for the mirror And nights crumble away With never-ending tears. Because she isn’t- Because she can’t be- Because she’ll never be-
Page with honest face Mirror for the soul To write down what cannot be said; Mere feelings will not hold Canvas with still grace Reflection for the eyes
You're my big brother, I love you with all of my heart.;
Somebody once handed me a flyer. It read “YOU EXIST” The aftertaste of such an idea lasted long beyond the introduction Existence. A vibrating silhouette of an idea
Influence is like a toxin coursing through my veins Runs from the ear, traveling quickly through the brain As the ooze moves, leaving behind a dirty trail Of self doubt, self loathing, and loneliness
Another way I dissapoint my father. Shocker. But I can't help it, no matter what anybody thinks. It's not my fault my father decided not to use a condom. It's not my fault
This is a message to my generation; it seems we’re falling into condemnation, subtly but surely losing our concentration, losing our determination to seek God and witness His manifestation in our lives, too busy with our infatuation with TV, video
My eyes open to the dimly lit interior of my parents' Ford Windstar. I see my parents in the front seats. They rest before the Sun brings the dawn of the new day and awakens my weary protectors. My parents.
A Child Alone Thinking that they’re grown But just another soul lost Victim to the World’s Exhaust
My dad lifts my new electric blue Schwinn Mountain Bike onto his shoulders and hauls it into the garage. He takes a wrench and adjusts the pipes with the precision of a poet, pulling them to fit my height. I stretch
Slanted Like The Leaning Tower Of Pisa I. Am. Slanted. Though I Stand Enchanted By This Hungry Image Of Beauty, That Is About To Crumble, Tumble ,To The Ground, Only To Be Found In One Giant Mess.