The road was long, and so was I,
A wayward son beneath the sky.
With every turn, I sought my name,
But found instead a flawed out frame.

I chase and grab the stars with open hands,
But dreams, stardust, slip through the strands.
What once burned bright, now cold and dim,
A shadow of what I might have been.

Them broken dreams, they weigh like stone,
Reside in a heavy heart, a wandering soul
I roam around aground, paths have frayed,
A restless child, my life ever betrayed.

Yet in the dark, I believe a whisper stir,
A fool's hope, though frail, softly purrs.
For every fall, there’s always room to rise—
To mend what’s been torn and to seek new skies.

Imma wayward son with dreams undone,
But even in nights, I'll always find the sun.
For my path has been bent and veered many a time,
Journey’s end may yet be near, but it's ever a dime.

© TheRetro_Reader