The Yellow Brick By Brick Road


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!"


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