I used to be unable to wait,
Adulthood too far away.
Now I have forgotten my fate,
I want to visit yesterday.
My childhood is unfortunately coming to an end,
The decision between love and money loom.
Which road will I go down; will it bend?
It seems as if at the end there will be doom.
Should I become a doctor,
And make my mum proud?
Or should I become an author,
And let me dreams be allowed?
The never ending fear of being alone,
Demons in my head quickly growing.
At the end of the road will I be happy?
Will I choose the wrong road knowing?
Defining myself with paper and pen,
Not letting my mistakes deepen within.
All this studying and worrying and then,
Hoping to go peacefully with a grin.
Pushing away my love for all,
Barricading the only door to my heart.
Building with memories to make a wall,
Throwing all my feelings into a cart.
Should I become a doctor,
And make my mum proud?
Or should I become an author,
And let my dreams be allowed?
The never ending fear of being alone,
Demons in my head quickly growing.
At the end of the road will I be happy?
Will I choose the wrong path knowing?
Scared that one day I'll see myself crying,
Ripping at my skin to let the pain out.
Questioning myself about why I am trying,
It's not healthy keeping all this doubt.
Some late nights I daydream of tea,
The warmth keeping me safe from the cold.
Sitting in a foreign cafe with just a book on my knee,
Content with all my work being loved and sold.
Smiling as I rewrite my signature again,
Meeting fans loving me and my work.
I know that finally nothing will get me when,
All the monsters no longer lurk.
Should I become a doctor,
And make my mum proud?
Or should I become an author,
And let my dreams be allowed?
The never ending fear of being alone,
Demons in my head quickly growing.
At the end of the road will I be happy?
Will I choose the wrong road knowing?
YOU ARE READING
Flying Whales
PoetryTwenty six letters repeated again and again to create a change in one's self. Poetry at its finest. Highest in poetry: #63 8/7/17
