Poem By: Raymond Bundotich



Pulling my strings 4



Life is even stranger than death,

Every second we breathe has an unpredictable end.

Written futures are fantasies;



I feel like I’m a stranger to myself;

Nothing could make me happier than to make you proud

But your abstract concept of a son isn’t me,

Maybe in another life I’d be;



You tell me who I’m supposed to be;

Ever thought of what I want to be?

Or who I’m meant to be;



I feel like a prisoner in my own being;

A bent man walking on his knees;

I’m free but can’t enjoy free-will;

I’m happy but filled with misery;

Joy is still a dream I’m yet to embark on;



Give me a chance,

I’ll show you I’m more than a pawn in this game;

My wings are now grown

I need to spread them and learn to fly,

I think I’m strong enough to fly against the wind;



Unbind my chains, remove my blindfold

Maybe I can find my own way out of this maze;

Maybe confidence is all I need, maybe not

It’s a chance I’m ready to take;

Maybe bliss will find me or me it.