You enriched my mind so much.
You opened the doors to so many worlds.
And I felt alive and safe and invigorated,
Seen and heard and understood. A home
Away from home, a school within a school.
That’s why I never comprehended why,
After this paradise had been revealed to me,
You’d try to force me into a box and pretended
That I could only look at it and not live in it myself.
The compliments you gave me, the support,
The passion and enthusiasm you spread like
A benevolent wildfire, something that finally
Resonated and touched my heart, yes, I was alive,
There were voices within me, calling, a calling indeed,
That you set free, but after a while I saw you were waving
Chains, your hope for me was not compatible with the
Life I felt within me.
And all the things you loved and preached
To believe in, slowly faded away when it came
To me, the word realism, the word security,
The word money, the gut-wrenching concept of a proper job,
Exploded like bombs around me, everywhere I
Stepped, I wanted out, I was still holding on to those
Voices that arose, I couldn’t let them go, I didn’t want
To let them go, I finally reconnected with myself,
You showed me the way and now you tried to cut it off.
I really thought that you saw me for who I truly was.
I knew you had blind angles, but not when it came to vocations.
Why did you want me to crouch and submit myself and numb
Myself into this deadening system that erases creativity, that
Becomes blind, deaf and dumb due to never-ending repetition,
The good bourgeois job, days of old, playing it safe, playing it
Subdued, that was never me, and you tried to take that world
Away from me again, put it in a corset, a museum, only the dead
May live, you wanted me to become a spectator, earning tons of
Money, self-sacrificial, fitting into your world and our paths divided.
You don’t see me when you tell me to
Just get any job as long as it makes a lot of money.
You don’t hear me if you tell me
To just step back into a mentality that dries up imagination.
You don’t feel me when you tell me
That what I can do, what I am doing, is unrealistic.
And then I truly wonder, who are you to teach?
Who are you to speak?
Who are you to pass judgement?
Croque-Melpomene 