I was always an adolescent or a crazy kid, with big dreams,

Constructed my future, and made sure to cross-stitch the seams.

I looked through the clouds and admired the heavenly stars,

Oh how I wrote my prose and drew my portraits, all while wishing I could one day, visit Mars.

I focus on crafting my voice, being a little louder each day,

And if I had an opportunity to work for films, I wouldn't turn that away.

But I was always an adolescent, or an ambitous kid, with big dreams,

Who smiled up at the stars containing my future, and how I cried as they gleamed.

With the adoration and fixture of space in my head, but how my heart desired creativity and beauty,

I was always so stuck in the middle- between a state of confusion and a sensation of unhappiness that could kill me.

And yet, I was always so excited of my naivety,

Because I always imagined all the scripts I would write, or all the planets I'd one day see.

I was always an adolescent, or a courageous kid, with big dreams,

Who practiced their prose and perfected their portraits, as I watched the distance stars beam.