Loud Pøetry Spilled From The Quiet Soul

Page 16

When I was little
Every kid in my class was
Asked a very simple
Question.
"What do you want to be
When you grow up?"
Some girls said princess,
Some boys said NHL Hockey
Player,
I said
"Me"
And through the years of trying to find myself in the dark abiss
Of my brain
Training to keep the light in reach if I
May fall and strain,
I see the others climb mountains
And seek fame,
But not me.
When I was little I didn't look in the mirror to find me crying out in pain,
I looked into the mirror to see
Me grow in fame.
But no. Thats not my destiny.
They say everyone has a choice.
No matter what.
If that's the case then
Why was it that I was hit until
I couldn't feel a thing,
Why was it that I was laughed at until
I couldn't hear anything,
Why was it that I am now trying to
Block those memories in vain
Trying to build up what's
Fallen from me and piece it back
Together again.
But it's not that simple.
I'll still be called names,
I'll still be hit and judged
Until I eventually fall.
Fall into that hole where
the Demons call,
Calling out to play the instrument
Of depression
Letting the bow
Of the violin play hitting every
Note as the notes begin to fade,
Noticing that the symphony
Is now done
And forgotten until
Another comes along to
Play.