^i just cant think of a name^

What do you want to be, they ask me.
I shake my head and shrug my tiny little shoulders
bent harshly at wrong angles
under the weight of constant interrogations
of what lies ahead,
what dreams I chase when i’m awake;
they suck the hope from my soul,
burned-out, just wanting to fade away.

If i’m gone in the morning,
it was finally time to disappear,
dissloving under the saturation of expectations
from everyone but myself
It’s a strange thing,
the way they crave to inject
their hopes and dreams into my bloodstream,
in hopes I get addicted to their “motivational” chatterings
but instead i sit,
letting the music wash over me,
cleansing me of their excessive needs.

what do you want to be, they ask me,
and this i smile, a big-toothed reply;
“I want to be a song,
mending the hearts of the clueless.
I want to be the words that lift them
and never let them fall,
I want to be the one to convince them to hold on,
listening to my voice at three a.m."

they stare, astounded, and nod,
listening to the words of my songs.

The End

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