There are dream versions of me inside my head.
People tell me to go out there and do it. It’s easy to say that
to a distressed person. Something positive and powerful--
they’ll go away. The great curse of seeing someone with potential
and telling them “You’re gunna be something someday, kid.
Mark my word: it’ll happen.” Am I? Will it?
Tossed up and misguided--and the things I see
inside my head are difficult guides to follow--
such intangible swirlings of gasses.
And how to plow forward when every which way
is a step in any direction?
Even following the good feeling has sent me to dark places,
and then some of those dark places follow me. It’s an interesting thing:
finding yourself.
Who was the first jackass who looked upon the masses and said to all:
you can do anything! you can be anyone! go forth!
So much hope has been given--I fear too much of it too freely.
Or those dark places would love to see me there again.
Well, is there such a thing as too many dreams?
But to choose one, and chase it, endlessly?
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