Sometimes I think
the world is so developed in every way,
I just don’t fit.
Everything is so streamlined,
I cannot find my fit.
That if we weren’t so perfect,
I’d know what I want to really do
and who knows, maybe even do it good.
That if we weren’t so mature and all knowing,
I’d build up my passion
Adding one and one together
Instead of being handed a perfectly added whole number.
like figuring out what I’m innately good at,
Instead of understanding never to try it.
That if we lived in a forgiving society,
I’d actually bother doing what I want to do.
Consequences be damned.
I might even venture into a known field
I may not find it as pure
The way I dreamt it to be.
I’d never get to doing what I love
For I cannot accept it
be even an inch away from
What my heart imagines.
I cannot let
My foolish heart realise
That dreams are
Stranded into reality.
13th March 2015