Once, there was a boy,
Full of life, his eyes shone like soaring stars.
Outside he lived, the Florida sun his keeper, and the clouds his canvas;
His parents told all their friends he was going far.

One day his mother left him,
With some lady, and some kids, that acted like babies.
They said the outside was dangerous, but he knew they lied;
He’d rather have his beach, woods, and rabies.

So he ran, a dash the fastest his feet ever carried him, the trees were so close –
But he was caught, his freedom being torn from his dirty fingers.
The lady pulled him away, saying that he had to stay with the class, and
She scolded him, her words like brandings, for the burning lingers.

Another day another lady asked him a question,
‘What do you want to be?’
He thought for a moment, and then without hesitation,
‘An astronaut, defiantly!’

She chuckled, her eyes not shining like soaring suns,
‘Aren’t you cute?’
He was confused by her laugh,
Yet she was grown-up, so he followed suit.

It was the outside that he missed, he wrote and writ until
He couldn’t tell the difference between Africa and algebra.
The ladies said that the grades were all that mattered, and
‘Your future is in the making; there’s no room for nostalgia’.

His clean fingers swept across the paper, ink
Coming eloquently to a taper.
“I want to be a writer!” he proclaimed.
‘That’s interesting,’ the grey man stated, ‘but let’s stash that dream for later.’

One day he opened his locker beneath a banner of red,
‘You can be all you can be!’ it said.
He half-smiled, not as full of life, his eyes more like lead.
What did he want to be? Why did something feel so dead?

‘What do you want to do with your life?’
His girlfriend’s father asked bluntly,
He opened his mouth, but no words came.
‘I’m not sure,’ he responded politely.

‘Find the tangent of x,’ the lady commanded ruthlessly.
‘Why?’ he questioned, ‘what does it matter?’
The lady couldn’t answer truthfully, but blurted anyway,
‘You just have to know this and you’ll live happily ever after.’

His parents were livid,
For his last report wasn’t up to par.
They lectured, trying to be vivid, because with grades like these –
What would their friends think? They told them he was going far.

He walked across the stage, tassel hanging.
Clapping hands and smiles, their faces finally authentic.
He grinned and waved, for in this moment he could be all he could be.
His father met him later. ‘Now, son, let’s discuss something realistic.’

So he ran, a dash the fastest his feet ever carried him.
He had to leave this place, he had to get out,
He didn’t care if he risked life or limb,
His eyes were less like stars and more like doubt.

One day, he woke up, greeted by sun and shore
He raised his friends and rode in the surf
Outside he lived, the California sun his keeper, the clouds his canvas;
The roads had become his only home turf.

He felt around in his pocket, greeted by only air.
‘Whatever’, he thought, he didn’t care.
He grinned and waved, his friends had nothing either.
They piled into the car and decided to sneak into the Vegas fever

With dirty fingers he gripped the phone,
His parents wanted to know,
Why he threw it all away, they couldn’t bear to tell their friends.
What happened to college, how could he stoop so low?

‘This is how I want to go far,’ he told.
‘You can’t go anywhere like this – you live without reason or rhyme!’
He smiled and spoke gently to calm,
‘I promise, guys – I’m doing just fine’.

Once, there was a boy,
And he was just a drop in the ocean of discontent.
He listened to them for a while, before finding his own path
And deciding to not keep his past a remnant.

They tried with all their might to lead him astray,
But he held himself to his own bar.
There is no right or wrong – but remember this:
Once again, full of life, his eyes shone like soaring stars.