At the turning point is when we are pushed to make a Decision.
Adults who are no more wiser in who I'm meant to be than I, start pushing and prodding saying over and over again!
What exactly do you want me to say?
Where do I wish to see myself in ten years?
'Alive, hopefully' is my answer.
What more can you expect from something not yet done,
do you really expect me to turn into a butterfly?
I can't even accept the person in the mirror!
Yet you want me to make a choice on who I want to be when I “grow up”.
I want to be anything but regret,
let me be more
The Blind Melody The first season of my life was all rainbows, butterfly's and sky.
Time was an endless thing, that I had rule over.
My friends were many, our laughter beginning every adventure.
The sun shone a bright yellow light, chasing away the shadows.
Many of the details of life were passed by, there was always more to see.
Music played but was completely ignored, all the things that passed before me were things of wonder.
In the next season, the world slowly became shrouded by fog.
Color was still there but shapes were starting to blend together.
There was no difference between a look of love or loathing.
The memory of what a smile had looked like faded.
My laughter still rang, time was still moving though I could no longer tell it.
The music had a tune, yet I was too busy squinting at the growing fog to pay it any mind.
The season that came next passed slowly, or was it quickly.
I had no way to tell.
The world had lost it's color in the fog.
Laughter stopped coming easily.
I could no longer n