As the wind whips within my face. The cold sharp agonizing pain brings memories of disgrace.

Of the subtle life I used to live... the innocence of a child. Bringing back the happiness I once had. Carefree, and not misplaced. That was awhile ago. As the world hit me in the face. Of everything I am and of everything that I was meant to be. Clearly the only person that I ever will be is me. If I do not try. If I do not hope... what will this make my life out to be? 

Stricken by terror and fields of regret. I live this life with purpose and I will not fret. I will never forget who I am or what I am to be. If I deny myself now. I will not be free. 

I may wish upon any star. 

But that wish does not define who I am. Who you are. 

It is the action that is carried out. The triumphs that we create. 

Without that action. Without the trial. 

It will be much too late.

To overcome our mistakes.