The Way It Goes For Some

This poem reflects on the way some people have to do what their elders think they should even if it dashes any and evry dream they ever had.

I am in a capsule of concrete and souls,
Lost amongst an arboreal sea.
Watch us become our obligatory roles,
As we traipse through snow and tree.

Here! Try on this iron suit, his tie of amethyst,
Isn't it lovely? It belonged to your father.
No...? Not this again, you'll do as he wished,
Don't even fight it boy, no, don't even bother.

A life on the ivories, the time of the pen,
Oh, how I wish that could be me.
Ah, that is bliss, that is true existence,
But I'll trade in my heart, so I can be free.

And as I enter that room, the truth takes hold.
For I am in my father's chamber.
Where upon an altar sits his God, gold
And bovine. No more dreams for me, ever.