Whose Life Is This? Poem by Emma Beverage

Deep in the canyons of my mind
there lives a tranquil, happy time
my aspirations they did soar
my active mind was never bored
I thought that life would do my will.
and all my dreams would be fulfilled.
When I believed that I was free
to choose who I, wanted to be.
The colors I chose were so bold
“you are wrong, ” was what I was told.
“I am the driver, it’s my choice.“
I never thought that I could lose.
It brings to mind a poem I read
about a dress, they ripped to shreds.
I was too young to understand
just how cruel, man can be to man.
So now, with her I must agree,
the life I wanted, torn from me.
And by the time that I found
my life had been run aground,
that I had wasted all my time
on something that I could not find
I could no longer race the wind.
Older now I still, rise again.
They tell me how, as they told her
Life is just what you make it
I have grown old and gone downhill
most of my dreams are unfulfilled
life indifferent, as time flies
leaving me with one question, “why? ”
My reborn virgin lips un-kissed,
Whose life is this? Whose life is this?