It can't be done.

You can't act in films.

You're from Missouri, where dreams grow to die, like weeds under the sun.

They shout so loud, it bounces off the stars, meaning I can't even sleep to dream at night.

They are the constant convulted clamour of the everyone trying to keep me from flight.

They say the more air I tread, the more the globe demands I collapse unto it, under its might,

Serving my days as a more compitent component that has no chance of failing: fertilizer.

Because they say reality falls behind as my dreams soar higher.

But I need this. I can't exist kicking around the small town proverbial dust,

I can't waste the world's water until I c-c-croak from suburb-ial rust.

As such an individual, if I can see the dimmest spotlight above, I give a herculean arial thrust,

Up! Up! Up!

I grab the fleeting edge of any and all stages,

Because the fear of being stage-less spreads from my brain to my bones like an internal contagion,

So I breathe life into every 15 minutes I attain on stage,

Synthesizing characters as unforgettable as an addiction to cocaine.

My future rules my thoughts like a totalitarian Charlemagne,

Uniting my ambition, focus, and drive in the divided state called my brain.

But I have a long way to go, and this is where I stumble.

My brain and heart ache as my soul's tummy grumbles,

I know in college lies the way to go find and refine a treasure trove of knowledge,

But to get there I need to travel many seas aboard the saving "Ships of Scholars".

"I sure do love my mom and dad" I say,

But their best wishes can't support me until I graduate.

And they sure can't support me until I catch my break.

So to make my parents proud, escape my small town: I have to pave my own way.

So be it brick by brick, I'm always building my yellow brick road,

With blood, sweat, and tears I mortar each load,

Until one day I can exclaim, "I'm not even close to Kansas anymore!"