The gravity of time holds me down;

Like a tree I'm growing up in my place,

Or a bird caged in my own space.

I keep waiting and hoping;

For my dreams to bloom,

And for my wings to come out soon.

But the harder I fight life,

The farther it pulls me under.

I'm tired of starting over every time I lose,

When giving up hurts less-

than anything else I may choose.

Call me weak for wanting to let go,

My burden is getting heavier

And life refuses to slow.

Yet whatever happens to me-

in the days to come,

I will always thank myself first,

Because I'm not where I came from.

And for you who are still not apart;

If my death arrives with a poem,

Then promise my cursed soul-

A burial next to the Sacred Heart.