I set aside
The things which I strode
Towards when my legs had
Strength for long treks
For attempts at those things
They said I was incapable of.
I was capable.
I wasn't capable of returning
To myself, not soon enough
To avoid losing all my gains
For want of being called
"Unselfish."

And my potentials withered
As so many yellowed flowers.

Beware of those which tell you
That all you wish to do
Pales in comparison
To that which they've left
To haunt your halls
To tell you you're unworthy.