At 18,
A doctor,
My goal that was.
At 20,
A genetic engineer.
At 22
A book publisher.
For life,
Wears you down,
Like the passing waves
That crash into a coastal rock.
Life takes a little more of you each time.
At 18,
I had hope,
I was optimistic.
At 20 I was shaky,
But believed I could do it.
At 22, I was disenchanted, beaten down and broken.
I was shrinking.
My place in the world
getting small every year,
Like me it seemed.
Till a once tall man,
Standing
6'5" at 18,
Was nothing more than
4'11 at 23.
Shrinking, like my expectations of my life.
