Your future is not something you can mold.
Don’t hope when hope yields hurt.
Everything you do is controlled.
Avoid the pain by numbing with cold,
Throw your singing heart into the dirt.
It’s just fool’s gold.
We have all heard stories told
Of passionate tries that subvert,
That mock, that scold.
No. This is your future. Take hold!
Put on your clean white shirt.
Go forward, speak up and be bold.
Don’t let anyone have you cajoled
Into admitting it’s not worth the hurt.
Fight back post-pain twofold.
Everything you do is controlled
By you and only you. Now don’t revert.
Don’t let the pessimism take hold.
Maybe it’s not for fools. Weigh the gold.
Abby Bennett '14