If you don’t like me the way I am,
Go to hell; I don’t give a damn.
I believe in making my own ways….
I am not concerned with what Uncle Sam says.
You are free to call me a wishful thinker,
I’ll show you my fantasies were meant to twinkle.
You live like machines operated by somebody else,
I prefer living like the broaching jewels.
When will you cease this futile fuss?
Stop drifting with the “mob-rush”….
When will you walk out of the tyrant’s rule?
Or do you want to end up looking like a fool?
Life, is meant to be a montage of myriad dreams,
No matter you are grizzly, or in your teens….
Go out and be what you want to be,
Forget Uncle Sam; He does not have the key.
I can’t wither and crinkle like this,
I don’t believe in queries prior to a wish….
I don’t care if it’s a mistake and I fall,
I will never be just another brick in that wall.