Let the truth finally be told,
I really yearn to break from my mold.
I desperately want more self-esteem and self-worth,
But I fear it will give me yet another troubled birth.
I then may not be as recognisable, &
I then may not be as pitiable.
I may be more authentic,
But I may appear rather rustic.
Without any self-lies,
I may not be as obedient, &
In your ambitious eyes,
I may not be as brilliant.
But at least I'll be me, &
From all obligations I'll be eternally free.
I may fail more, &
I may tread into a forbidden shore,
But at least I'll learn for myself, &
Alas, I'll be my true self.
Thus would form my new bold mold,
Which, I'm sure, you too would treasure like real Gold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem