Friday, September 24, 2010

He Wants To

He was supposed to make it because he wanted to
He was going to have it all because he never had anything,
The flower that grew,
The thin air that became something;
Thinking life was within his grip,
Bursting with radiant colors, him an inexperienced shade of gray,
But that was the day,
He knew he would never go back, where life
had not yet flip,
Where walls felt like salted guillotines.
The unmistakable signs:
He can't make it an inch without a yards worth of deprivation,
For every room of victory, there would be a building to meet him with resistance.
It wasn't his time,
He can't stay, not here,
Still wandering and figuring,
He is, and as long as he wants to be, independent.

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