Chemicals

When I grow up,
I want to be
a ballerina astronaut
dancing among the stars.
As I twirl in my tutu
in the planetarium lobby,
I fall, twisting my ankle.
Such dreams are no more.

When I graduate high school,
I want to go to college
to become a teacher, perhaps,
or a webpage designer
able to put dreams on screen.
However, when I start
missing class due to migraine,
I know these castles in the clouds
are not to be.

When I feel better,
I want to be
a writer of tales
that send shivers down spines,
poetry that takes
breaths away.
As weeks stretch into months into years,
I wonder if I will ever
be able to be what I want to be.

I write anyway, praying
to gods I don't truly feel,
endorphins released to
make me feel better about
myself.  I am working
as hard as I can, what with
body chemicals dictating
how I live my life.