Another day passed as they always do,
but without having all my dreams come true.
An opportunity might soon arise,
but I'll look at it petrified as ice.
And every day that passes I wonder,
why I'm so scared of the sound of thunder,
while for others it's music in their ears.
Whereas I might still need to face my fears.
How can you expect me to be like you,
and yet not do everything that you do?
I shouldn't be trying to reacreate
that live you loved, but I know I would hate.
I should try to be a bit more like me.
I know now, that's who I'm supposed to be.