My Ancestor Must Be Crying Poem by Roxy Kovács

why can't I be?
I must find the key…
to be a weeping willow
instead of a rusted blade,
maybe a few years later i'll still cry on my pillow,
thinking about my other life where my train wasn't delayed.
this is the sandless sea,
and when all the healing people are walking with their heads up,
those who always wanted me to be corrupt,
I'll stand there smiling but they hated me for flying,
and i'll just stand there with my soul drying,
with my words dying.
All that ‘cause I couldn't be.
All because I wanted to, I was good but I couldn't.
and maybe some hypocrite will laugh in my face,
I'll still say glady that this was the best gift I could I ever get from the Lord.
only if I could get a reward..
But if my dreams are just dreams then why can't I wake up?
I think about leaving sometimes It's messing with my head,
only because I fear if I'll stay I'lll never get ahead.