Poetry For The Iris: Clearing old mountains Rising to new heights

I rose from nothing, had to hustle, on the path destined for hell.

I’ve done my time in the struggle; I’ve done my time in a cell.

Listening to turning bolts and snapping locks, I turn my head side to side to clear the thoughts,

I am only hearing shaking rocks, trying to press abort, but this vision won’t stop,

Trying to be the success of the family in thy eyes of Nan and Pop,

Show them I’m the Grandson, who made it his time and took the shot,

But man the rest is up to you so give it all you got.

Rise to the plate and create your own fate,

To yourself you cannot be fake, just realistic.

Demonstrate to yourself, you’re more than a statistic.

No room for hate can only be optimistic.

Poetry For The Iris