What room is there to thrive,
when you’re stuck trying to survive?

If time were ever kind,
it would let me rewind.

The years have taken their toll,
left me searching to feel whole.
I’ve lived enough of this life,
grown too familiar with it’s strife.
The flow of tears
Has wisened me beyond my years.

How do I build a life for me,
when I never got to see
what living could truly be?

Like a child, I stand unsure,
so much left still to explore.
All those versions of me
I never got to be—
untouched, untried, unseen,
alternatives that have never been.

No room to wonder, no time to try—
only the weight of getting by.
Survival took the years away,
left the dreaming for another day.

Wisened by battles I shouldn’t have known,
yet still a child where dreams are grown.
Old in the weight I carry inside,
young in the places I’ve yet to find.

Old in sorrow, young in my dreams—
Still reaching through the in-between.