Stage Left

Poetry, Writing

You don’t define me,

Confine me,

Fold up my hopes

And press my dreams

So they fit into your box.

Neat lines aren’t my song.

Each judgment a nail

Sealing my coffin,

And my mouth,

You hope.

But I was made for more,

Much more.

more hoping

more dreaming

more doing

As I open my sails

and cast for the

Great Unknown,

The adventure of life abundant,

Wind at my back,

Joy filling my lungs,

I laugh freely

That you ever thought

I was meant a bit part,

Stage left,

As you stole the show.

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