I've written for hour on hour on things I want or places I wish I could be.
But I've learned that it's not possible, because people are not poetry.
I am all rough edges and curves, while poetry sits in neat lines.
And I understand now, that very reason is why I couldn't be confined.
I'm not a neat little stanza, that was destined to fall into line.
I'm a hand grenade of limitless potential, just waiting for a sign.
My freedom to be what I desire is finally unleashed, as I am finally free of my cage.
A smothering family of conceit, where nothing is ever good enough,
And with my newfound freedom, I can finally turn the page.
Because my father falsely believes that I can fit into a place he has made,
I go against it all, and now he's mad that I won't play along with his charade.
I'm not a pawn to be moved, I am a man with my own will. And I will never surrender, not for a moment, at least until,
Until I'm finally happy, that I finally feel fufilled, until my life is how I want it,
And not a moment sooner, as it's my life to live. My limits are boundless, My spirit is finally free.
So I will strive for the heavens above me, until my end is clear,
Because people are not poetry, and I finally truly have no fear.