December 11th, 1991
Life lived as a child,
can hardly prepare for independance.
Not enough who exceed,
care to instruct naive potential.
As I now face passing time,
trapped as I am in my person,
Paranoia runs heedless;
too much! These pressures of independance.
Finally I have what all my life I've requested.
A family, a promising future,
and a relationship with my creator.
But how to support them?
Make it happen?
How to successfully do His will?
Now that I've touched what every child,
at one point desires,
I'd almost give it back.
To remove the burden that responsibility is.
Yet I know I never would.
Even in the pit of defeat.
Because I believe that to obtain happiness,
in any of it's forms,
all the pain in it's coming,
makes it seem that much less the weed,
and that much more, the rose.