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If I had known where dreaming would take me —I would have stopped before I began
If I had known how failure of expectations would make me feel —I would have chipped off the smallest happiness I could back then
If I had known why people prefer those who behave a certain way that I don't —I would have stopped acting to get people to like me
If I had known what message would I be preaching or what instinct would I be fighting —I would have told myself to start long ago
If I had known when I would scrape away the wish I held on to for so long —I would have stopped hoping long ago
If I had known where dreaming would strand me —in this barren fields of endless hunger and death— I would have not started what I did nor moved from where I began
If I had known that what made me feel alive would eventually kill me —I would have stopped dreaming long ago
