Twenty

It’s impossible to be original in this town, 

Everything has already been written down, 

Yes the majority of my life in fact is a mess, 

But finding yourself takes an act of congress, 

Everyone around me has it all figured out, 

I still can’t help this mind filled with doubt. 

The more I try to be normal with the crowd, 

The voice in my head goes from quiet to loud. 

This is not a cry of desperation, asking for relief, 

And I promise with your time I will be brief. 

I turn twenty tomorrow, so the calendar affirms, 

I sit down as the room starts to take some turns, 

Am I making this up, is it all in my head? 

“I’m not crazy”, that’s what I’ve always said, 

But maybe that’s what being original is about, 

Instead of fitting in, I could be born to stand out. 

No more wondering if what I say might offend, 

And just with that my heart starts to mend. 

I don’t want to look back when I hit eighty, 

And think to myself, “what if, just maybe.” 

I will be my own hero, no one else is needed, 

In the end I’ll look back and know I succeeded, 

It won’t be easy, the fight might be rough, 

But of this being normal stuff, I’ve had enough. 

I may never rule the world or win the lottery, 

But my life will be the lived the way I want it to be.

Sept. 2014