Stick to it.

Maybe you are a person who doesn’t do the easy thing.

Seeds are sown in a young heart.

Buried deep, like a half-remembered song.

A wisp of a tune, hummed in the distance,

Making its way, like cupid’s dart.

It is a spurt of joy that you try to clasp,

And that very thing that tortures your dreams.

Is it a figment of thought beyond your grasp,

Or is it your soul’s pained screams?

Without the eye that matters the most,

You feel your way through an indifferent world.

Without the eye that matters the most,

You are, but a wandering ghost.

With other’s lessons as your guiding star,

With no original thoughts of your own,

You are cursed to re-live the lost generation’s scars;

Even the curse, it is not your own.

Let something real, chip you on the shoulder.

They make it sound like it’s a bad thing.

It’s not, if it makes you stand strong, and your soul a little bolder.

Let’s give the little birdies something else to sing –

about time that the tides rose under your boat.

Don’t fear the rocks, just thrash your oars.

Go around sowing your thoughts, your intellectual wild oats.

Throw your head back, breathe deep, and hear your voice soar,

Pierce the layers of wind around you,

Every opportunity gone is gone. These moments also, alas!- you let go.

All my good decisions have amounted to nothing.

All my bad choices, made in naivete, have come around to bite me in the ass.

Pick a path; make a decision anyway.

Quoted text from here.

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