Singing at Rest

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I was afraid to paint my dreams,
Because they would then become real.
But I didn’t want to make it seem,
Like I hardly had room to feel.

They looked at the blank canvas out in front of me.
They noted my hesitance.
Said my actions took presidence,
Over my outlook on what could be.

And what if I never reach my wants and needs?
What if I see the image of a tree, but get too afraid to plant the seeds?
I can’t face failure right now,
So I’ll keep it blank; keep the wonder on top of their brow.

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