Calling

For a long time I have been denying my own Praying oh God this brain is too young to contain, Trying by all means to be like my friends then Find my self crying and asking why do I pretend? The more I denied the more I cried and its Pain I felt and couldn't fly from the being i denied, Finally i gave in and took away from my whole The blanket of deniel i had all along, Now i became and this brain is giving me no time To relax and be young like my friends whom i always Wished to be as free as they are, Its my own more like ordained to see these things I sometimes find hard to explain,then i question oh lord This can't be my life?then i hear a voice telling me "This is the gift you contain" Mindless reality i command and is sense I suck in the breast of reality with no shame I stand and try to fulfil the purpose of my existance, Then is joy i feel and the Pen that bleeds This is the gift i contain and the passion i claim, The choice i didn't make but will forever Gladly bend all the way with it.