Dear younger me


Dear younger me, remember when I said

That I could do anything? When with the world I played?

Well I’m sorry, really truly sorry, I lied…

I feel like a magician whose hands are tied

Behind his back, or a featherless bird,

Like an unknown and distant creature

Lost so far away from its herd,

Like Ariel, without a voice to nurture,

And Charon or Ra, each day after the other

Having to get up and sail their ships,

And stand before some unending hardships

When my only dream is to lie in bed with no bother…

Yet, all hope is not lost

But, see, life has a cost

And as years pass and my soul grows old

I feel that my heart follows, ever less bold,

However I walk and will keep walking

When I cannot run anymore

Even if I cannot become the king

I will not let my footsteps be limited to the land of bore,

For, though perhaps weakened, the flame of my dreams is still burning

And as long as I can I will keep it so, I will keep yearning.


A bit of free writing.

In inspiration, in tone and in the pickyness over quality.

Feels nice.

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