A basket full of oranges
All illustrate the same;
Differing by a tinge of green,
Or a slight tinge of gray.

They’re a basket load of analogs-
Of all that bores you out;
Of all you see in every bend,
At every turn on your route.

I ask you now, what you’ve been asked before-
A hundred times, or probably more;
I ask you of what you’ve heard so often
That certainly your ears must be sore:

Who will you be?
For all I see, is you trying to fade away
Into a crowd of oranges,
No marks to distinguish yourself yet.

Will you be a watermelon?
And be seen in the grey?
Be that shiny dagger
Amid a mud vase display?

You try so hard to vanish,
When the sun could light your path;
It could be the bee, searching for a flower,
Amongst mud and grass.

Will you then BE the watermelon?
But I see you're afraid
Of not following, like a pest, an ant
The honey of what others do every day.

I ask you one last time -
Choose wisely;
I ask you, but I won’t wait
Time’s ticking-

Who will you be?
Will you be me?
Or will you believe in your instinct
and let yourself succeed?