Sitting alone,
Reflecting on my
Road behind me,

And the path ahead.

Feeling like I’m living
A lie, never able
To show my

True colors.

Always expected to 
Be someone else

Just to survive.

I awake each morning
With disappointment
That the dream has
Gone.

While I’m asleep,
My life is truly
Mine.

To make of it
What I choose

A ball of clay
That is molded
Not by the cruel

Hand of Fate,
But by my own.

If I can mold
My dreams like fine
Pottery,

Then why not my
Life?

It is time to break
Free of the self-imposed
Bonds

That have shackled 
My existence

It is time to
Truly become me.

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