Strong

When I was little. I was very much so a beat to my own drum person. My parents tried to stop it. But they didn’t understand. There wasn’t enough time. Not enough time in the day to wait for them to take me to the pond to catch frogs I had to go now. There wasn’t enough time to simply sleep the night away I had to find as many shapes in the stars as possible. And there certainly wasn’t enough time in my life to be anyone but myself. They tried still. But I knew that tomorrow wasn’t a promise no matter how young I was. So when they said no I said age doesn’t matter. It’s just a number. It tells you how lucky you have been.

To this day I still beat to my drum. My rebellious teen years are behind me but still people will call me uncontrollable, defiant maybe even reckless. But that’s okay I would rather be called those things and seen as a black sheep for the rest of my days. Then stop being myself and stop living like today might be my last.