Reading five books on end on a summer day
Writing for hours until thereโs nothing left to say
She did it all for pleasure, not praise
But now her ambition is lost in a haze
Paralyzed when work piles up
Because all her dreams became corrupt
They told her once to reach for the stars
But now they tell her that sheโs bizarre
She hasnโt read for many years
Held back by all of her fears
She wants to be something more than space
In a competition with herself, but sheโs losing the race
But sheโll hang on for another day
See if theyโll listen to the things sheโll say
Intellectualism is a dying fad
But itโs a summer day, so donโt be sad





















