I tried and I failed.
I wanted to become.
It was in the stars,
etched into the chromosomes
of my creation, destined;
expectations, anticipations.
It is a cruel, icy wind that
cuts through the fabric of hope,
exposing sinew and bone,
leaving nothing but a whimper
and a sigh.
I tried to become all that I
wanted to be and now all
that remains is what I am.
Must I be contented with that?
Shall I become the best that
I am? Am I to strive for the
pinnacle of this?
There is a dagger of disappointment
buried deep in my heart. Tell me,
why does no blood drip from
the wound? I tried. I tried and
I failed. A footnote to what
might have been, a thought in
a mindless moment of time.