The fields look greener on the other side of time,
While others harvest gold, I'm learning how to sow.
Each step I take ahead births four I leave behind,
Yet something in my chest refuses to let go.
I've watched familiar faces climb to summits high,
And sat with quiet wonder at the roads they've paved.
But we are not the same; not every bird can fly
The moment it is born; some wings must first be saved.
I carry my own weight in armor built for me,
No borrowed gear fits right upon this frame I own.
The race was never fair; it just was meant to be
Run differently, with seeds that only I have sown.
So I will face the front, though storms are all I see;
I am my own believer, and that's enough for me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem