My Destiny Is to Look Up to My Ceiling
Amateur writer. On the path of the phrase that says "practice makes perfect." Avid consumer of books that make me think, make me feel.
People look up to people,
But when I raise my eyes up,
All I see is white--A blank.
Is it true that you can find
Admiration outside of
Your imagination? (How weird!)
They say that people are great,
That they do things that can change
Fate. Yet, every time that I
Look up, all I see is white.
Some say white is a symbol
Of hope, of the pure, of what
Was once untold. But in my eyes,
White is just a cleaner version
Of a black hole. It won't let go
Of me. Why can't my ceiling be like
The sky? Why does its pureness have to
Blind my eyes? Why can it not,
At sunset, display a raging fire?
It would make me less crazy,
And perhaps, less of a crier.
Is it my destiny to
Look up to my ceiling?
I wish it was more of an
Achiever, a worker, a dreamer.
I'm doomed, and in a lost fate
I am a firm believer.
© 2017 H Bakerley