Written by Jacob Ibrag
‘You’re not going to be a success.’
Echos form a choke hold around my neck,
trying to take me out and the dreams that I have.
They don’t understand, I’m fueled on their doubt and I
can taste it. Boundless supplies of energy running from
their lips to my will. Cloud eight. I brand their lines
of hate on the shoulders God gave me. I’ll rise
above their definitions, cloud nine is
ignorant towards ignorance.