Trying to decide

I'd like to be an artist. Paint and sing and dance and show my love through colors;

emotion. 

I actually dreamed of writing history.            

Telling the world of when and how and then;

However being far too young,

way too eager,

They just told me to forget to be a dreamer.

"It's time to put aside all those childish things..,"

"Times are tough, make sure you're ready..."

                 I've never been more scared. 

My generation toughened. Roughened.

They couldn't be more unprepared.

                  I guess I'm angry. Upset. Disappointed. Neglected. Unimportant.

Now I think and construct better ways of getting that 401k,

Better ways of helping myself with Financial Aid.

A hopeless American, first generation immigrant fate.

When I was young and small, I wanted to be so big.

I wanted to act older.

In my age my heart is smaller, my views are bigger.

Trying to decide the path for the rest of my life,

I've chosen and still I quiver.

I could have been an artist.

A sober Janis Joplin. 

I would have amazed and held the awe of thousands.

"Times are tough and they are a'changin..."

                                                                                                This is not what I wanted.