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.