Every time I drop the beat I remember there isn't a beat behind me

But if I think about a beat behind my words it creates motivation

It's not even the beat that keeps me moving, it's what happens from the combination

This is okay.

When I'm saying words I'm not quite sure make sense

It's more foggy than it will ever be clear

It's okay. I can do that here. 

The only reason there's fear in it all is because of the concern of the thoughts

The thoughts that don't truly exist but I've created them to create a standard

That's not the truth. 

But I continue looking for those standards

Show me the way

Get me to the right place 

Let me see where I have to be

And I'm here. 

I can't forget that I'm here. 

Maybe the idea of "staying" is terrifying. 

But what does that terror stem from?

I'm not the only one in a fog.

I'm not the only one feeling and thinking a million different things at one time.

To believe I'm the only one is distancing myself.

There are others.

They may not seem visible.

But perhaps it's because they've decided to wear a similar mask to mine.