When I was 5 I wanted to be a singer.

Music brought smiles to my mother’s face

and stars clouded my vision.

Because of that singing felt right,

but that was before I knew I had no talent.

 

When I was 7 I said I'll become the president.

Or some important figure.

Adults listened, nodded, smiled, then lied.

But I can’t complain,

they told every child the same thing.

 

When I was ten I said I'll be an astronaut.

To reach for the stars above.

That soon dream faded away,

But I suppose that happens to all dreams

 

When I was thirteen I wanted to be an author.

I said that with certainty,

but only because books were my passion and pastime.

I thought that writing would be just as fun as reading.

 

I’m sixteen now

The stars are gone and everything seems dim,

and I tell my sister the same lies told to me

My past dreams are long forgotten.

And I’ve realized I have no love for writing.

I have no passion or disdain for anything now,

and in all my life,

I have never felt so lost.