My life has become better, I’ve made mistakes and I’ve grown, Still has a long way to go.
I’ve learnt that I can’t be all, Nor can I please all. And that’s okay, ‘Cause I’m not born to be that way.
The child in me has been murdered, Killed by growing up. I’ve lost the ability to find happiness in the simple things in life.
But along the way, I’ve found myself a salvation; My will to express and not hold back, In paper. The reticent boy becoming a bold lion, The emotions becoming too much to suppress. ‘Cause with each stroke of the pen, I’m freer.
I am a dandelion – Delicate, beautiful and wild. Someone has blown me into pieces And now I am fluttering in the wind. Catch me if you can, and Assemble me together again; Piece by piece, and Slowly and carefully.