(Poem) Farewell, my dream

Kind of a "venting" poem. Not meant to be proficient but I just needed to get this out there.

As a child you'd find me

Sat in front of the tv

Watching movies and shows 

Taking in worlds beyond my own

During these moments

Who I am was being formed

As I took in stories

Brave knights clashed with dragons

The battle of Good and Evil,

the true weight of life

raged on!

And sitting, wide-eyed I knew

I wanted to create powerful stories too

So I read, and I read

and staged epics with plushies!

I captured these stories

through a beat up camera

There were twists and turns

action and awe

laughter and heartbreak

I was just a kid,

but i was a filmmaker

I grew and my passion did too

I watched, learned, created

Yet the more I brought forth

The less I enjoyed it

The stories felt hollow

My nights stretched long, sleepless

Rewriting, reshooting

FOR WHAT?

I scoffed at my efforts

Cringed at every frame

Every draft, a joke

Evert attempt, a failure

It wasn't enough

It was never enough

And people let me know

No one liked my films or shows

I didn't either, to tell you the truth

Despite being more technically proficient

There was no enjoyment to be found in them

That which I loved

Became something I dreaded

What brought me relief

Only brought me stresses

I began to hate my films

The one thing I was good at vanished

And I was left with nothing

As even the lover's spark extinguished

under the weight of public reception and expectations

Yet, if I close my eyes

I see that beat-up camera,

thos old plushies,

and the stories they told.

Raw

Imperfect

Mine

And maybe, just maybe,

that was enough all along

Yet that was so long ago

And I don't believe I can recapture the magic

So this is farewell to you,

my love, my passion, my dream