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.