I've grown tired,
This is getting heavy.
My body may be young,
But my soul,
The part that is ME,
Is old.
It is ancient.
It has risen,
And it has fallen just the same.

But what it hasn't done yet,
Is finished living.

I wish you were my muse.



Or rather,
I wish you knew you were my muse.

When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.

I hate being held down,
Or someone thinking they have control over me.
It makes my knuckles twinge,
And my face burn.

Why would someone else control me,
Want to tell me what to do,
I don't even control me.
So who, in fact, are you?

You aren't my mother,
You aren't my father,
You're merely a friend.
But don't get me wrong, I don't want our friendship to end.

But it feels like you're smothering me,
Trying to chain me down,
Rip off my wings,
Or ****** down my crown.

But I won't let that happen,
So I'll cut the chains you've tried to use,
And I'll keep my wings above your reach,
And I will hold my head high,
And I will guard my crown.