The child that I was had such high expectations,

Believing that he could match the great reputations.

Thought that he would have it all figured out at eighteen,

Now he has met no such expectations at nineteen.

Trying to outrun the overwhelming dark power,

At the initial minute of the nineteenth hour.

I wish that I could control the actions of my hands,

Put them to better use so that I can take a stance.

A chance to change is what I seek continuously,

And I attempt to approach the future cautiously.

But both of my idle hands cover up my two eyes,

Whenever the chance to change is about to arise.

When I awaken I go to the mirror to see,

Hoping to the see the man that I had wanted to be.

But there is the child that has sadly never changed,

Other than optimism becoming lesser ranged.

I need a stronger wind to push me further forward,

So that I may sail away from my sins and onward.

What I desire and require nineteen gales.