Winner.

When I was young, I always imagined a life where time would be on my side. Not just a social construct, but a friend in which I could confide. I have come to realize that life is not always so kind, it will shut you out when you have already been maligned. I envisioned a future full of riches and glee, one in which I would be able to provide for my family. But now I see that I chose the wrong path, I could have chose righteousness but instead I chose wrath. I would cry if I could but it is often much too hard, so instead of taking action, I just sit and wish on shooting stars. I hope for redemption, for a day to come, where I can take charge and live large under the stars. If I had a dollar for all the dreams I hide inside, I would never have to worry about how I am going to provide for the life I could be living that I have denied. If only I had tried, then maybe life would be more giving. Instead I choose to fail; success is rarely an option in my weary heart, so frail. I cower in shame and conceal my ambition; procrastination is the kiss that always seals my fate. Irate, I set out to show myself that I am my soul's only mate. I had dreams but they were just clouds in my coffee so black; I would have reached my full potential if it wasn't for my pain. The rain falls hard, drowning me in a world of sorrow; I still have tomorrow to seek and find a shoulder that someone will lend or let me borrow. I do not have much to offer other than my broken heart; I just hope it is enough and that you do not depart. My callous disposition has led to my demise, as the sadness concealed deep within my eyes ruins my optimistic disguise. I would have taken over the world like royalty from the past, if only I had realized that my confidence could last. Instead I roam the world searching for a helping hand, but seem to only find happiness when it is written in the sand. My wishes collide with the stars that shoot into my heart, as I seek further guidance and find myself displaced like the items in a shopping cart. I am a mere shadow of the self that I could be choosing to deflect and reject life's satisfaction guarantee. I hope to one day locate the joy that my soul deserves to feel, just as long as the universe gives me a reason to stop having to conceal. My thoughts, ambitions, and emotions are never enough for the ones that are self righteous, as they always seem to call my bluff. I pray to be redeemed and summon the strength that I know I have inside, as long as the fury within yields and begins to subside. The self destruction that occurs is often not within my control, as I am merely lonely and yearning to have someone to hold. The past few toxic years have shown me that I need to trust and love thyself, before allowing myself to be oppressed and placed upon another's shelf. I am a work in progress, a book that is yet to be published and read; my blood has turned to wine, as my body is your bread. I need to pick up and resume, refusing to let the remnants of my sanity be consumed with grief, as I pray to the Gods above to wash away my pain and fill me with relief. The tragedies of my life are long gone and no longer set in stone, as my sins have all been paid for, and no longer need to be atoned. I wipe my tears on my sleeve hoping to receive a reprieve; no longer naive I can finally believe in the wonders of the world and all that I can achieve. I just need to hold your hand until I find my way back home; my heart is fragile and needs to be restored like the Coliseum in Rome. I hold my breath as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death; sullen and silent as my breadth gets you high like crystal meth. My fears wait amongst the sidelines, yearning to be called upon to play; please pray for me as I return from being led astray. I have cried for the last time, stronger with each new sun as I strive harder to return to the top of my game and take the lead as number one. I am a natural born winner, I have won each battle from the onset; forever a threat to your esteem, I will be the answer when you forget that I have always reigned supreme. Screams fill the air as I cross the finish line, the product of my own revolution, I have added method to madness and corrected my flawed design. Refined, I resign from my post at your pretentious picket fence, and I am grateful to the Lord above that I am finally cured of the scent of my own insipid and immoral, insecure incense.