I had things, I wanted. When you told me I had potential. You had me and my dreams, streamed across long black nights. I was young, but I was raw. And you made me draw. You told me I had talent. I would be great. You made my world... where I was great. I had it in me- to soar. Because you were telling me, singing to me, i would be flying. Writing was our thing. I kept it that way. And words... I felt, were close, honest and real.
As you nicely put it.
My time. Spent waiting. Was a waste of space. I had misheard you. Cleverly "misunderstood". That I was somehow too great. For the likes of you. Haha. But look who cant wait to take a hike and run?. Oh yeah right.. that will always be your trump card, your game, your excuse : why I will lose. Why I cant win.