I see myself in many places.
Selling books and writing more stories.
Signing autographs sand giving smiles.
What I want is fame.
But no fortune,
For my fortune would be given to me every day
I would be told how brilliant I am,
I would be asked about my talents,
I would be named as an inspiration.
As a true meaning of depth and deepness in words,
In poetry I will soar,
In fiction I will rule,
In science fiction I will discovery and represent,
In writing I will succeed.
I will be me.
I will not wish on how to wish on being someone else.
Rather I will wish on how much I want to be me.
I can’t wait to be me.
I can’t wait to be myself.
I can’t wait to show them,
Show them all that their belief in me was real.
That their visions and hopes for me came true,
They will applaud and cheer.
I would give thanks ,
Thanks because they knew before me that I would succeed.
I would be known for my name.
I would be known for my style.
I would be known for my stories.
The countless ones that flood a bookshelf,
I dream this and more each second of every day.
I tell myself it will happen.
I have enthusiasm because I believe.
But the doubts that flood me like a drowning sea,
Makes all those dreams float away.
The chains of the unknown and the nervousness,
The chains that pull me down with its heaviness,
The heaviness of others success,
To drown me in an ocean of questions
As I read their work I stop.
Because if I don’t stop,
My oxygen will stop its process.
Circulating my body in hope and youth,
Though I fear I will not succeed.
I fear of what I do not know.
I fear the outcome.
I fear of nothing.
Nothing,
As I make my work I look to see.
Nothing,
Then like the emptiness of my book the dreams vanish.
The dreams itself wondering,
If I try hard,
If I don’t look at others trophies and signatures,
I will reach my depth of glory and fame.
But with my truth in what I desire,
is this what I’m meant for?
Am I meant to put my hopes in chains?
Or let them float of to sea?