YET TO BE TITLED

I was told to realize the immense possibilities
That your vision offers,
But I can only perceive
The mysteries and fantasies my pen proffers.

Those lines of code were your confidence;
The blank page was mine,
But I was never told
that both were fine.

I plodded on, burdened by my own doubts,
While you only added to them,
But now I’ve shrugged them off,
And I’m no longer the same.

Even before I could talk,
I was ordered to listen up,
Hold in my words and my laugh,
That pretense, I can no longer keep up.

You don’t know, but I tried,
Killed myself far too many times,
Your words hurt me then and they hurt me now,
But I refuse to pay for your crimes.

I’ve been afraid all my life,
Sitting alone at the table,
But now my tears have dried,
And I’ve lived through the fable.

I’ve realized that what I thought
to be clarity, was but a delusion,
Now I’ve changed my glasses,
And there’s a new sparkle to this confusion.

Now there are stories to be told,
And battles to be won,
I am finally free from the shackles
And I will run, run, run.