Keep wonderin' if I'm too selfish with my dreams. So fed up, laying awake at night and my brain screams out through my toes. God only knows what I'm supposed to be; not sure what I'm made for, I just can't see it yet.

I sit in these classrooms, my pencil scratchin' on these sheets, thinking hard on how to cheat my fate. My teachers are noble, but I'm gettin' older and I want more recognition that sharing my knowledge with "kids" that don't get - the ones who sign up cause they need college credits.

Foldin' up blankets at the store on the weekends, watching 45 year old co-workers stare at the clock. Terrified that I'm 2 decades away from hating myself for wasting my days. I'm just so much more capable than anyone knows - I'm charming and witty and brilliant with prose. I wonder if anyone else feels like this - like they'd be farther in life if they'd done and not wished.

Feel like I've not lived up to their hopes. Thought I'd be rich and famous, brave yet demure, but now that I'm grown, they're not so sure anymore. May never accomplish what I'm capable of, but sometimes it seems that they were too selfish with all of their dreams for me.