I was born to write
To use the pen and wash away the pain
To fell and then later rise.
I was born not perfect
To wet eyes and later dry
I may fly so high today and go beneath the soil the next day.
I was born to be bright
To shine not like the sun but as a legitimate son
To smile and make others too smile.
I was born to pray
To pray with no delay
Because for once I haven't dreamt of escaping that clay.