Yonge Line, North York, Toronto ON, Canada

Planted in an urban jungle it was a struggle to survive,

I rose like a rose from the concrete, ambitious to thrive,

But in order to change, grow from a new position,

How do I uproot my roots, surgically remove myself — physician,

Without severing those same roots, becoming estranged from my origin,

Blame could be laid on close ones for confusing development with sin,

But the drip of concrete has been entering their veins for years,

Calcifying dreams, making them easier to break, enhancing fears,

So how can I expect them to envision my vision when they didn’t chase theirs,

Be careful of falling into routine, comfort, for your real cares will be invested into foreign shares

This post originally appeared on my website.

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