Thrumming my hands on my desk
Daydreaming of the time
I will be able to do what I want to do
When my time is truly mine.
All my days bleed into one
And my soul I’m giving
Writing uninteresting documents
To earn my boss a living.
I wish I was elsewhere
Living my true life’s dream
Being who I truly want to be
Not who at work I seem.
I wish I could write what I want to
Sharing what matters to me
Poems and stories that bleed from my soul
Not the tedium from the job that overwhelms me.
When I was a child I daydreamed
Of who I might one day be
The bright-eyed child I was then
Wouldn’t recognize who I’ve grown up to be.
So many years later I still wonder
Who I might one day be
When I can do what I want to
But in the meantime, I’ll dream.
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