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Cry of an Inspired Youth

I want to talk about my dreams
but lately it seems
my voice has fallen on
deaf ears.

I remain here shouting my hopes and dreams to this empty room.

My hands search for the door
but I can’t find it (yet).
I try to make you listen,
but you don’t hear.
Your voice tramples mine,
drowning me in an ink-black river of disbelief and doubts.

Why I let you in,
I will never know.
I can’t stand your ashy skeletons that dance around,
mocking,



mocking.

Your disbelief in me
boxes me in,
erasing my options
and clouding my future.

Let me dream.

I am tired of
your eye
searching my words,
my body language,
my eyes;
normally sparkling with a
warm brown vivacity,
put out,
pressed between
your thumb and index finger.
My flame,
reduced to a wisp of grey smoke.

I don’t want to be,
who you want me to be,
I want to be me,
So let me be!

You file me down, you waste me away,
you melt me to a puddle, you break me to pieces,



you suck.

I would like to let you know,
your age doesn’t give you the power
to mold me like a piece of clay.

I am different! Just because I am
outside the cookie cutter ideal person,
doesn’t make me wrong.
Let me be myself.
It’s the best person I can be.
Learn from me,
learn that everyone is special
in their own way.

Take time to learn from me,
for I have changed all the damage
you’ve all done. I turn it into fuel.
Your disbelief in me, and
you who think you can create me.

You only give me reason to
prove you wrong.
So, let me be a success story.

I’m done letting you
knock me down,
my walls will go up
and shut you out,
leaving me



… and me.

I believe in me,
so why don’t you?
I won’t forget this,
and I certainly will never forget you.
You will get a front row
center seat
as I address the audience,
“I would like to thank the one
who always believed in me— me.”





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