I’m sitting here, late at night
Thinking about my thus-far life
What it might have been
What it still could be.
How different would I seem
If to model was my dream?
If I had gone to war
Would I be me anymore?
If to act was my game
Would you know my name?
And what of the political field
Are there changes I could yield?
So many things I might have done
And the decision is mine alone;
But what would the world be
If I studied psychology?
What words could I have spread
If I were journalist instead?
But in my self I have lain a seed
To help my wanting aching need
To spread my love around the world
And watch as my life unfurled
To simply go with my heart
I found myself turn to art.
But this was not my first calling
In the beginning I was falling
For my love of the written word
And my longing to be heard.
So many times in the past
I have ended dead in last,
That I felt marooned in place
No sign of life, not a trace
Could pierce the mask over my heart
And I was just playing a part.
Words could no longer satisfy
This need I felt deep inside
To be heard and felt, and recognized
For who I was under the lies.
So I turned to art for an out
And people seemed to have no doubt
That I had great talent here
That I had nothing to fear.
But all of this I’d heard before
Everytime I opened a door
Someone was there to offer praise
Causing these outs to be a phase
Many times before I’ve thought
This is the one, this one I’ve got
But praise is nothing if it’s fake
And this is a view I often take:
They just say this to be kind
All of this was in my mind.
So now it’s art and I’m at school
And once again, I’m told I’m cool
I wouldn’t be here if not for skill
But I’m afraid to pay the bill.
Seeing the other work saddens me
What kind of artist can I be?
Where is the style I call my own
Who am I, what’s my tone?
Do I have my own sound
Or do I repeat what I’ve found?
What do I have that’s unique,
My garbage art is all antique
Am I not worthy to pursue my dream?
Why is life not as it seems?
Why aren’t answers easy to find
Again- it’s all in my mind.
My doubts and my fears
Often bring me to tears
And I watch my future fade
With every below-average grade
I make myself with it all away
Until I wake up the next day
And I’m still here, and I’m okay
If I can hold on for today
I pick myself up, I make myself strong
Because in the end, I know where I belong.
Right here, right now as long as it takes
Because I decide what it is that makes
Me who I am.
