When I was younger I swore to them all,
that though I was short, I soon would stand tall.
I promised this 'real' wouldn't capture me,
I promised that I would keep the 'imaginary'.
Now as I grow I find to my demise,
I'm losing that war and the light in my eyes.
I let the 'real' in, I can't believe it's so,
but this horrid new 'dark' just won't let go.
Those foolish promises, of which I put so much trust,
have gone away and lower I have been thrust.
I cry each night remembering the day,
when I was younger, because I knew it would be okay.
Today, I'm afraid, is far from so,
now I realize, I've got no where to go.
I said I would leave life kicking and scratching,
but in my soul's mind a new way is hatching.
Not a day goes by that my head is at rest,
not a second goes by when the 'dark' isn't best.
I try so hard, don't take me wrong,
but I feel like the days are just too long.
Postive and proper, I do try to be,
but for some reason that just.. isn't me.
I treasure the days I find slight peace in life,
but soon the 'dark' cuts throught like a knife.
How else can I say this, carefully,
I'm fighting to feel alive,
I am fighting.... Me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem