She paints a picture every day
of the reality she believes she can create
of the things she wants to achieve and how to make her way
The picture fades as the night falls
despite her efforts of giving it her all
It was never going to be a masterpiece
for her to hang on the wall
It was always going to be a dream ceased
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The picture is an image, a dream that slipped away
Because she cannot create her own fate
and when she tries it results in an eternal wait
Even on the days that she believes she has made a gain
Her shattered dreams, against her fate, leave her writhing in pain
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And what is fate?
It’s where you are and when
The present time
fate is now and not then
The Road Less Run 