You gave me a guitar with broken strings
And promised me my soul was made of music,
But as the years went on
And silence reigned
I lost my beat to the buzz
of a society restrained.
You haven’t mentioned the music since.
You bought me paint
As a form of release for the colors of
Chaos that consume my mind-
And for a time my passion flowed
Blended by brushes and for once
I was in control of a world all my own
And for a time I didn’t feel so alone,
But the colors dried wrong
And my brushes all broke-
We haven’t spoken of my art since.
You gave me ballet shoes
So I could learn how to dance.
Show my thoughts through my body,
And perhaps by chance add some
Discipline to the fire within me.
But I couldn’t keep up-
My bones just wouldn’t bend,
I just couldn’t fake it, I couldn’t pretend-
The wild in me always won in the end.
The expectations were just too much
Always afraid of losing touch
With what I now know was never even
Mine to begin with.
The disappointment was draining
And why should it be?
Don’t you see,
I was only a child then-
. . .
I bought myself a notebook,
And when the years weighed heavy on my heart,
I wrote this poem as a reminder
That no matter how much time you feel is lost
Know it’s never too late for a brand new start.