A song unsung; Therefore, another dream undone.
Hopes with high slopes-impractical.
Plan A was the dream, and plan B.
A cushion of necessities to fall upon, once dreaming was done.

My throat is constricting making life conflicting.
Desire to be heard, but you won't hear a word.
Voice full of lyrics; Though, you'll never hear it.
Aspire to let the words out, but always confined by the doubts.

Will the stage be a new page or will I remain backstage?
Onstage my heart is drumming, head full of humming.
A cappella teen years, filling my ears with acoustic strumming.
Oh so humbling! Yet, I find myself letting go.

An improbable chance; Consequently, find myself in the same stance.
Life is coming, and the song waiting to be sung.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem