I don't think your back was meant to be strong,
But rather your heart meant to be full.
You confuse fortitude with softness.
Reliability with passion.
And responsibility with purpose.
You are the dreamer born to the horde of pragmatists.
Your path is not yet forged whilst you yearn for railroads.
Ways carved through sheer will and force surely—
But necessity too.
You hunger differently—
Your body not sated with meals of meat, potatoes, and barley.
Your very existence is a threat to the false prophecy
Assigned to you at birth.
However, it wasn't a call brought down by the Gods.
It was consequence of your very own's apathy.
You are a mound of sand standing before steel skyscrapers.
Don't forget your fires turn you to glass—
Jagged shards of truth, reflecting back at them.
-k.f. 06-05-2026
