Taking a Walk

What am I to find along these plains? What am I to make, what am I to gain? Can my legs carry me thru change? Will I waste my shot with shaky aim? Im tryna breathe just Gimmie a sec. Im tryna breathe, I’m tryna get in these reps. I reap what I sow, I hope I planted some breath. Cuz I’ve been losing it. My mind through my tomfoolery, or its erosion. It once was a tool to me, now it’s closing. I’m a fool to be if I ain’t one now— I’m either bitter or proud. What is that about? my visions clouded and I see threats from all around. My paranoias dragging me down, but once I was there I found something profound. A mountain of diamond amongst a field of shit. Was it by comparison to surroundings, or is that what it is? What it was. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to find myself above. I’m always below love. I’m always never not fucked. I make things too complicated. Like I should just keep walking. But the rolling hills are talking. What am I to find along these plains? What am I to make, what am I to gain? Can my legs carry me thru change? Will I waste my shot with shaky aim? What am I to find along these plains? What am I to make, what am I to gain? Can my legs carry me thru change? Will I waste my shot with shaky aim? I don’t know And I don’t know how I should. I’ve spent a lot of time running, or trying, ain’t do no good. Or if it did, I haven’t seen something saying that. Like I put it all forward just to have to take it back and that ain’t help me when I’m working on moving down the path. I need to be ok with getting muddy, it’s only outside dirt attached. But it’s crap. I need a looking glass, I pour it up and knock it back. Till i chug it. What am I to find along these plains? What am I to make, what am I to gain? Can my legs carry me thru change? Will I waste my zshot with shaky aim? What am I to find along these plains? What am I to make, what am I to gain? Can my legs carry me thru change? Will I waste my shot with shaky aim? I dont know where im headed. I hope my bread has time to leaven and cuts down my sentence. These deserts are my citadels. Open air, wish me well. I tried to catch a breeze, hoping it’d lead to the beach, but I’m beat and there’s nothing left for me. I’m on my knees and I would pray to god. But he don’t like beggars, he’s told me to stop. Recalculate my measurements before I am lost. I said “bitch I’m lost, and I have been properly. Are you listening or seeing what you do to me? I mean you must because you made it happen. Not just passive, taking action.” I should take the same. I can’t place my feet with blame for where we’ve came. I’ve made up this whole exchange except what gravity takes. And entropy. And love. After that, what is left of me? A husk. Basically. What am I to find along these plains? What am I to make, what am I to gain? Can my legs carry me thru change? Will I waste my shot with shaky aim? What am I to find along these plains? What am I to lose, what am I to prove? Do I have a gun to shoot? Or only pop I got is my balloons? I need a direction if I’m gonna do this shit. I need a shadow’s speed and winds elusiveness. I once dreamt of a kiss before reminded that I’ll never live. I’ll only walk and I’ll walk until I collapse. May there be a respite before my last? Just a moment with love, that would make it worth it. Finally made it above