Make Yours Mine.

*

It seems so tedious striving towards a dream.

I've heard of plenty.
Magnificent, virtuous, even lucrative.

I recall the anxiety such ambitions ignite -
Competitiveness, ultimately exhausting.

The marathon I was in became a competition.
I became more watchful of the people infront and behind me.

I forgot,
It was never meant to be a contest
For this race I've been on
Is not the one opened by the prince of this world,
Where it is destined only to a meaningless, vain end, at its finishing line.

I have tried to paint my own dreams,
An embarrassing assortment of them.
I assumed they were huge ones.
My fear of failing to achieve each
Has made me disdained, mocked at and aborted everyone of it.

I know what I want.
But then again,
I don't know.


*

Make Your dreams my dreams,
For I have lost interest
In mine.

*