I remember well sitting in class
making models of airplanes
and drawing pictures of rocket ships
I saw myself as a pilot
soaring far above the clouds
or as an astronaut
tearing through the blackness of space
To me, time was infinite
the days were always sunny
and if I needed a new dream
all I had to do was take a look
at one of my perfect drawings of rocket ships
But then the teacher came to me
and told me that my drawings were wrong
The class was making pictures of rainbows and butterflies
and there was no room for my rocket ships
To this day I can hear the children laughing at me
and I can still feel their fingers pointing at my tears
For me, every second seemed like an eternity
as the storm clouds rolled across my mind
and those precious dreams faded away
with tears dripping on the paper I held
I ripped apart those perfect drawings of rocket ships
Now I draw different pictures
Pictures of the images in my mind
No one tells me there's no room for my drawings
No one laughs at me for what I make
Rather, they just turn away
too scared too scared to look at my work
they leave me to wonder how I became who I am
turned into a man with no time for senseless things
a man with too busy crying to notice the rain
and a man without the stomach to dream
because he cries when he hears about astronauts
and weeps at pictures of rocket ships
