What do you want to be when you grow up?
A question
That I've heard
Since the first grade
Over and over and over
The older I get
The more apathetic I become
I don't care
I just hope I can make a decent amount of money
That's what I say
With a shrug
Or a "I dunno"
Truth be told
I do know
I know what I want to be
But they're silly dreams I'll never reach
An author
But no, that won't happen
My friend already said
He wants to be an author
And here in this town
You can't copy one another
As stupid as it is
It's an unspoken rule
Plus
Who buys books?
No one reads these days
That's what they say
Over and over again
I can't speak my dreams
Because that's what they are
Silly little dreams
That always get dismissed
I need to get my head out of the clouds
Because I can't reach those fairy tales
So I'll keep my feet on the ground
And find a cubicle instead