like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
like a heavy load.
What happens when the only person that believes in you, is you? Does the dream disappear, does it fade?
It either will grow bigger and bigger or slowly diminish until it becomes a memory you'd rather forget. Yesterday, I was told that "You are a mother your dreams come last." My goals, my ambitions no matter how noble they are, how promising, how whatever they may be, they should be deferred, and even forgotten.
Its my choice how I choose to employ this "advice". Either I will run with it or toss it in the trash. I am a emotional being, a creative soul and days like this, when met with advice like this, and during times like these when everything seems to be going everywhere but up I write some of my best poems. For me giving up is not an option, and for the most part I try to find ways to turn negativity into something better, and sometimes drowning out the "Haters" especially when they are the people closet to you may be hard but like Nike says Just Do It! Choose your Muse