I need to stop lying to the king. Im a young Simba in the blog, but I can’t wait to reach you like Martin Luther the King. I have a dream that one day my fears won’t overtake the years of oppression, my tears for fear of not being resepcted or heard. My love for thoughts is now taylored to swiftly reach you. Even Kanye West can’t keep the love of my writing locked down. Im gonna save the love I have for Humanity like Nikon memory cards, but my memories card my youth in these Harlem Night clubs. My realities are only a falacy of pallpable imagery of things Ive never seen, but I have heard through sound in mind, and spoken words.