Life seems, to most us, a monotonous system where one
believes in a certain way of making a living or following a specific routine
that has been set and travelled before. The system consists of being born and
religiously raised to follow certain oppressive means of living and making it
in life.
Amongst a generation,
born is a gene, amid the rational ones, who believes that climbing the same
train that has rotated and still rotates in the destinations that are deemed to
be of efficiency or of the “qualified,” is somewhat adamant to what she
believes in. that gene doesn’t only exist in myself, but abides in most of us.
Fear sometimes skips a generation, but in times that we live
in, it is imposed and lives in every generation. The other imposes it then it
transforms to be self-imposed fear. Courage, however, does not find comfort than
fear does in such minds, for it is not a quality that religiously lives in the
life of a black man, as it is considered a danger zone, more like a blinded
visionary.
Our dreams bleed the minute we allow the perceptions of
others towards our dreams pierce the flesh of our own dreams. It is not a rare
occasion that one is not taken serious when she tells their relatives that they
are writers. Dreams that bleed internally create pools of forgotten dreams when
one allows external forces to be determining the journey towards success but
not the journey of bleeding inks that reminds others of their dreams, the
forgotten or lost ones.
We all have dreams and not all of us will have the same
dreams, even if it happens the destination is the same, the journey won’t be
the same. Not every road has promised jobs, some roads have business ideas,
some have PhD’s, some have jobs to create and some have not been found yet.
We all dream, but not all of us experience the same
subconscious. Some have visions in the dreams, maps. Some have nightmares and
some have white or dark walls.
Everyone carries their own burden, some of us carry the
burdens of dreams, those dreams have bled both internally and externally, but
they now carry bleeding clocks in our hands called ink that travels through
times of 2 lives and an infinite strives. They fit in the life of one who has
never journeyed through multiple crossroads. In your hands you have bleeding
dreams, but your weapon, the mind, determines its survival or its extinction.
“Never was a blind person blinded by the light that
overwhelms his skin but blinded by the darkness within” – Go_Itse
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