i wish it was in my own language that i befriended words
i wish it was in my mother tongue that poetry flowed through me
i wish, with deep anguish and shame, that i didn’t lose myself and stray away from the greatest language of all that i so happened to be luckily born into
what if i dropped out of uni
and had all the time in the world
to do all the things i want to do?
what if i had all the means and connections
to bring to life all those amazing ideas i have?
what if i read from dawn to dusk
and wrote tens of poems throughout
and poured thousands of words into a novel
and had a great record of success under my name?
what if i had the freedom to travel the world
and stay as much as my heart desired,
created art out of my days
and eterneties out of my moments?
would i be happy then?
not at all distressed?
without a speck of regret
for not earning a college degree?
is it really truly
one’s experienced wisdom
and inventive ideas
that lead them to legitimate success?
or is it a paper falsely valued as proof
of intelligence and expertise based off
memorized textbooks and daunting stress?
i just can’t reason with this world.
and i am ashamed and disheartened
and eaten up by self-pitying gloom
for not having the courage
to take a stand for myself
and do what i know is right for me to pursue.