My Poetry.

Stare.

I'm looking at my dreams in my confined space,
They're staring me in the face.

I can't even tell what they're thinking, so much has happened,
I've given up and pondered, and all the while they have said,
"Try hard!"
"Don't be a tub of lard!"

Am I selfish? Am I throwing it all away?
All my motivation seems to cross away, day after day.

I'm too scared to reach out and really be my me with my art,
People might like it, who knows? I won't know unless I push my cart,

I look forward at my lamp, I see the light spread out so bright,
That's when I really feel lost in sight.

I'm so confused about what to say,
What plan do I have when I wake up one day?

I know I'm young, I will express, I really want to plan ahead,
I want to try rather than stay in bed,

It makes me fill with a joy.

Then I start to think, I love their honesty,
It pushes me forward to actually be my me.

I want to go and act all stupid,
Singing and dancing, acting like a kid.

Then I start to look around again,
Oh, dear, they're staring again.

In my confined space, this is my own stage,
I see my dreams, they're sparkling like a wizarding mage.

I smile, they smile back and say,
"There you go! Now you've started somewhere!"
"You need to start somewhere, hair by hair!"

I giggle and sing, picturing myself by a golden lights side,
I try to start and work hard, I won't shove my happiness in pride.

×^×^×^×^×^×^×

Start back at square one the next day.

(I really want to try and start posting how I feel, I am nervous but I did think today I might try. Thank you for reading.)