Finding Essence

Who are you?

What will you be?

I don't know.

I'm only 17.

So many questions

about life ideals.

What makes you think

I know what I am going to be?

I've been confined to an area span

of less than one-hundred miles

Where as the world itself

is almost 30,000.

I refuse to be placed into a box

or a comic strip timeline

of what my cut blank life

is supposed to look like. 

I dream to see the world.

For all its individual glory. 

Trees of lucious green.

Waters of crystal blue.

Flowers of vibrant purple.

And fields of bright yellow.

I am not eager to rush towards 

so called "fate."

I am in control.

I choose to be more. 



This poem is about: 


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