Writing to Exist

You're going to make something of yourself they said,
You are going to go places.
Tomorrow is the blank slate of the rest of your existence,
A toy box to sculpt, and engrave.
Your name, and your face will be known by all about you,
The old will be humbled,
The young will be astonished.
Those within your peer group will sit starry eyed and astonished.
Till they read between the lines,
Till they see that you didn't move at all.
Through the imagination of your life you will have accomplished wonders,
Without ever witnessing them,
And they will grow angry and bitter for being fooled of your genius,
For they once had the same ambition,
But worked with their arms to accomplish what they could.
Some made it to the place at the top of the class,
Other's were nearly there,
But cutbacks made them falter and topple down on their ass.
In the tomorrowland carousel of discontent,
We barrel at the gun shot with unparalleled velocity,
Angry that things couldn't work out the way we planned.
The intensifying struggles from those who did it "right"
Who followed the status quo's properly,
And didn't stick it out.
So what you still made it where you did,
The pressures in your head,
Were the pressures on their stress.
Someone has to be the dreamer,
And someone has to follow through,
What they didn't tell you when you were younger,
Was that it shouldn't be you.