Between the life I wanted
and the one I am living,
between the person I wanted to be
and the one I settled for
is a whole world screaming that
it was all my choice.
As if I wanted this, as if there were
no circumstances. As if I would come down to this
when according to the popular opinion I
had the chance to make a choice and be who I wanted to be.
There’s more to me than decisions, meaningless words,
empty promises and broken daydreams.
There’s so much more but I just don’t know how
to show it to the world.
Pain was my power for so long but my arms
got tired of carrying this baggage.
Fueling my existence and growth with pain leaves scars,
it burns and it bites and it all became too much.
Maybe there was an error in my design.
Wild imagination running through a weak body.
Maybe I was not cut out for this.
A few get to live,
too many of us are only here to survive.