Dreamer

A sudden gush of emotions make me print,
my breath as cold as mint.
Not knowing what the next line be,
I write my history.
Sixteen , an age of dreamers,
my face like morning sun glimmers.
My insides burning with passion,
but all this is so out of fashion.
I wish, I still lived in that age,
when people knew what they crave.
We all run in this rat race,
career being its aim.
There is no one to be blamed,
but me for things I differently named.
satisfaction as laziness,
enjoyment as luxury,
happiness as guilt,
what i have become........,i think.
This i hate,
but knowing its not too late.
I'll be okay,
as I know my way.
Although from it I sway,
I can see a bright ray.