As a child, I had an imagination,
I saw my future, big and bright.
I dreamed of seeing the stars in space,
of all the aliens I would fight.

The possibilities seemed endless,
"I will change the world!" I cried.
I was anxious for dreams to become realities,
until one day, my imagination died.

Every single day is the same now,
day after day, the same highs and lows.
Conventional schedules now rule my existence.
Where did that child go?

In the midst of all the world-changing,
reality knocked on the door.
I lost that little child,
the child that wanted something more.

So today I sit here in my cubicle,
wondering, "Is this all I will ever be?"
My unoriginal thoughts and this tiny little box,
are what have become of me.