Typing on my tiny typewriter,

I’m an incorrigible plotter.

Color splashes onto the page,

Green, coral, orange, and beige.

A story burns in my heart,

Tearing my soul apart.

My story grows from a small seed—

I wonder where it might lead.

It grows higher, taller, stronger.

I can’t hold it in any longer.

Let it grow! Let it grow!

Let the current flow!

I toss all my dreams into the deep-blue sea,

Expecting to create waves like a tsunami,

Rippling emotions throughout the earth,

Triggering sorrow, joy, and mirth.

But instead, plunk!

And boy, it sunk.

I throw it in time after time,

Until all my hopes are coated in slime.

I trudge home muddied, tired, and sore,

Feeling as if nothing matters anymore.

I stash away my pencil, paper, and pen,

Vowing never to touch them again.

My rejection becomes dejection,

But God turns that into a redirection.

I realize He didn’t give me hands and feet

For collapsing onto a pillow in defeat.

Instead of saying goodbye,

I decide to say, “Try.”

Remembering the biggest dreams start small,

I’ll get up no matter how many times I fall.

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