I’m tired of being
What you want me to be
A miniature you
A perfect carbon copy
Smothered with rules
On how I’m supposed to breath
The life I wish to have is dead
The loss of life I grieve
How am I supposed to live?
How am I to learn?
My mistakes my rewards
I would like to earn
I do not wish to walk
In your tatty worn out shoes
Instead the path I take
I would like to choose
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I dont think your mother will like this one Great write Ian