The Traveler

I am a metaphorical traveler, in reality, more so a passenger
Traveling lands and decisions as a teenager
My realities, sometimes too harsh to realize
So I covet my freedom and too quick to criticize
Living in a world too politicized, in the heart of me I reside
This mask and this shield, are nothing
But mass examples of the things I feared
As a confused young being I pretend
But my truth lingers underneath and around the bend
I hunger and desire happiness, too fleeting
My mask fusing with my identity no less never cheating
I pay myself respects all too soon
As I retract my hand from cracking my cocoon
Close my eyes and head hung low
Is this the life I chose?
The world will continue to move forward, so will I
But my story will continue to unfold, so will I
As the seasons change, I assume the worse
This my traveling story, this is my curse