This is my narration
and my celebration.
Quitting imitation
and constructing plans
to help lead my generation.
And my colors and thoughts,
will always get lost in the mistranslation.
A damming downside
and makes me regret communication
It’s always to my frustration,
but doubt will never be successful
in its infiltration.
And it's to my mortification,
I let myself bruise my hands
pounding into walls,
in search of temporary exhilaration.
Stand up from yesterday's intoxication.
There is simply no justification,
no more fabrications.
And now I leave that in the past,
ready to foresee my manifestation,
of becoming my definition
of a sensation.
Watch my colors.
Watch my flames.
Watch me burst
and feel my reverberation, young nation.