Someday, I want to be somebody I admire

Fearless.
Not bogged down by should-have-beens and what-ifs
Not paralysed by my three percent Yes, five percent No;
Ninety-two percent:
Is this a con or a pro?

They said if your soul is good, you'll look pretty.
I wonder if I am doing something wrong.

I don't want to hold my own.
I don't need to hold my fort.
They said to hold a pen is to wage a war
But to hold my breath is to lose control
And to spear my paper with my pen is to declare a truce.
I just need somebody to hold me.

I want to be somebody I'd love and envy.
Maybe if I met myself I'd love me more
But that isn't how it works.
Maybe I'll sit here until my head feels less heavy
And my instruments welcome my breath.
I'll wait until ink comes back to my pen.
Maybe, maybe, I'd sound less dreary.