I wake with the morning sun
Ripped away from the heaven which I dare to dream
A place only I know
Nowhere to be found in this life, an unforgiving scheme
I rise under the weight of generations past
Crushed between hope and reality
A dark and lonely existence
Nothing in this world is right, a harsh actuality
I walk one foot after another, pressing deep into the Earth
Depressed to think they will be left unseen
An endless march I refuse to cease
Nobody else will do the same, something I find so obscene
I sit and look to the sky above
Inspired by all the injustice around me
A silent, reverent prayer I give to the universe
Everywhere I go needs more morality, that I guarantee
I ride through a never-ending wave of disbelief
Dumbfounded to think I stand alone
A foolish idea it must be
Everything I do is all I have ever known
I sleep beneath millions of stars
Tired from being the absolute best I can be
An adventure I wouldn't trade for gold
Everybody, whether they realize it or not, needs more of me
YOU ARE READING
I, the Idealist
PoetryA glimpse into the daily life of the TYPE ONE on the Enneagram. I explore the inner self of 'The Idealist' as compared the rest of the world. I hope to relate to other fellow Type Ones' and inspire change in our communities.
