What would maim your soul, young prince?”
“Well, I would hate to be thought of as to mistaken for someone else m’lady”

Astronaut, Doctor, Genius, a formidable leader,
Pronounced parents, relatives and the next door neighbour.
People came from far and wide just to meet the child,
A wrinkled and crinkly lump, searching for his mother,
the child was… just a child.

Poet, Writer, Speaker, a whole other level,
Everyone said the child was special.
Friends, family and the people around town,
All gave the child the proverbial crown

Artist, Racer, Superstar but nothing mainstream,
The child, now a teenager, shares his dreams.
Ivy Leagues, Oscars, money and global fame await.
The teen is sure as hell of his obvious fate.

Thespian, Banker, Chef, a rebel with a cause,
The greatness of his life would never know a pause.
Inspiration; a free-flowing perennial river,
Limitations; not even a damn sliver.

Accountant, Salesman, Employed, were thoughts kept in sight.
Dreams were suddenly becoming finite.
“Why do I feel this way?” was the internal shout.
A new discovery was self-doubt.

Marriage, EMI, Stress, Rent
When did the child’s dreams get this big a dent?
Wild dreams that once used to be sacred sanctuary
Are just eerie reminders that he might after all, just be ordinary.



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Pranav Mathur

I work for other people in the day and on myself in the night. Wait… that sounds wrong.