Warnings.

World says ‘no’,

It sends me a warning,

Somewhere in the middle,

Of the path to my ideals.

It sends me voices,

Embedded in fear,

‘You must not,’

‘Live your dreams.’

And I hear wails,

Rivers of complaints,

Souls wrapped up in guilt,

And tormenting shame.

I suddenly believe,

It was never meant to be;

The passion I thought Earth,

Would hold for me.

Warnings;

Doctrines and papers,

What should be done,

And what should not,

Not a soul on here,

Is truly free,

We are what they call,

Uncountable borders,

And invisible wars.

Whilst the world is a picture,

Learned thoroughly,

I decide I must share,

The photography,

Of metaphors,

Instead of their,

Tailored truths.

I’m constantly warned,

Not to listen to my beating heart,

Nor the whispers,

Of inscrutable words,

‘Save your disappointment,’

‘We were just like you.’

In terms of vivid dreams,

That burst too soon.

But now I realise,

Perhaps I’ve been made strong,

By the tears,

And what has gone wrong,

I was born with fears,

To silently defeat,

And paint a memory,

Of a less-travelled-by street.

The anthem I will sing,

Is a melody of my pain,

A hurricane of doubt,

The source of a thriving rain.

And maybe their warnings,

Shouldn’t mean a thing;

My translation of your war,

Has sprouted soaring wings.

They’re touching the sky,

And painting ideals.

Up in those realms,

Your warnings,

In the vacuum,

Disappear.