Is your work ever truly finished? I don’t believe so. We always feel that we could have changed something to make it just that little bit better. This poem I feel will forever be a work in progress!
Playing in their heads.
Forging, forming, their own
opinions. Exploring worlds of endless
To realise, its not their own.
in the wonders of others
while their own dreams crumble and crash.
Forced to turn back, retrace steps
but always in the eyes of others, failing
to crave an original path
in a land of no imagination.