My Reality

An introspective poem of expectant hope

As I sit here, all alone
hearing cars on highway drone
sitting, thinking on my life
all the struggles, pain, and strife

I look upon the road before
and know that there is so much more
more to life, experience
I know there'll be a difference

My future is long, I'm still young
Lived my 23 years all wrong
Still have so much left in store
More years to come than went before

I could write an autobiography
and make millions of bucks on 'me'
I could sell these silly poems
on how I'm feeling so alone

I could sell out, like many have
write a book on my evil Dad
I'd have so much more money then
never have to be broke again

That all seems so lame to me
That isn't how I want to be
Perhaps there is some other way
I ponder as I write today

I can be what I'd like to be
My futures right in front of me
all I need to do is take it
Take a hold, mold and shape it

Become a person I can look in the eye
I think all this, looking at the sky
dreaming of the me I see
the me I really want to be...