Analysis of RESCUED

Please, will you Give me something to believe in, not this original sin? I was hoping you could give me something more potent than this drink in my hand. Hell, I'm no stranger in the crowd. They have seen my face before, so why can't they see every damn day I'm trying to stand on my own two feet and be a simple man who follows the reality that I created and not these sedated dreams that want to make me throw my hands up and scream and not shake my fist. Still, I'm going to my safe spot inside my head because these bastards wish me dead.

All they did all my life was take, not even leaving me with the crumbs they tried so hard to have me follow. I don't want any more pills to swallow. Just give me a pen and paper, and let me write my poetry underneath the blue moonlight.

I opened my eyes to look at who I was as they hated me for now for who I am because it's not me but them asking themselves where they stand. I follow the stars, for they have charted out my life plan.

I now fly high like an eagle and rise from the ashes like a phoenix.  I'm fighting with this monkey on my back, and I won't let him win. I have been broken and beaten, bloody and bruised, but I can continue because I have people mimicking my every move, so with my soul, I grove and refuse to lose.

Let the higher powers give me that sweet rhythm so I can find that flame that lights my fire, and for this, life gives me that desire to remain unbreakable, puts the fight back inside my tired eyes, and eases the trouble in my mind.

I was hoping you could give me a place to rest my head. I no longer care to crawl on the ground listening to some new medication of a unique religion sound. I found my soul when I lost my body, and the doctor no longer had anything left to give me once he saw it was the angels that set me free.

I have this fever that makes me want to speak my truth. Even if they tie my hands and hold my tongue, they can take my body but not my not soul. I have rescued myself from the bottom of the barrel so my story can be told. My S.O.S. was read someone or somebody opened their eyes to all my words that over the years i have said