once i dreamt to be on top of the world
to take watch of the fishes, the horses, and the birds.
the tiniest kid hoped to be the tallest tree
now the outcast stands on the lookout point of the good old ship.
they call it the crow’s nest, a place for only the best
a promotion for every passenger to be a viewer.
once eighteen, one must climb and see
however i have been up here for about thirty-nine weeks.
signs and calls that none of them ever heard
cries and bruises which none of them even noticed.
the cold winds and the heavy rains
all they think is that i love being up here and living my dream.
they decided i have thirteen weeks and two days more
however being up in the pedestal brings so much sore.
they name her the first on the ship to live the fullest
but what if i ran out of all my best as they think i am to survive in this torn out vest.
i would jump off though they would be mad if i fell down
so i will decay here and be on the lookout.
the moment of having to see everything that comes;
it all haunts me with the things i could have done.
young enough to do many more
old enough to not have done so much more.
the crow’s nest deprived the kid with closeness,
from openness and from calmness.
help, i am so scared to be up here any longer,
what if i point to the wrong directions and harm all of their planned expectations?
i want to have more too, but i am stuck wanting to not disappoint all of you.
the waves also give me seasickness, but people think i had lived used to it.
so proud out loud they could not hear any of my painful sound.
i am so different that they love it while some insults like when Jesus found no fig.
someday, my feet will leave this wooden surface
they would still think big futures for me though
but at least, i am off the lookout and be less seasick
— signed, captain of sunken dreams; eighteen