He answers prayers,
so I'm still praying.
God left me a trail,
destiny was written in Braille.
I can feel it,
and I'm still walking.
We do more than just talking.
It only started
when I was locked in.
Somehow, that broke my chains.
That's the pain of becoming.
I am something.
I got substance.
So cold,
I'm sub zero.
Still raising the bar.
The competition subpar.
Cut on my eye,
but the third still open
like a bad scar.
One eye down,
but I still see far.
And the future's looking clearer.
Rainbows in the sky,
blessed by the Lord.
If I want it,
all I need to do is try.
If He's got us,
I'll trust that Guy.
No need to know the road
when I know who's guiding my stride.
I'm still praying.
Still walking.
Still becoming.
And if destiny was written in Braille,
then every scar
Means something, Do you feel me
Do you see me
Burnt to a crisp,
but I'm rare as veal.
Boxed in,
I'm just now breaking the seal.
