I signed a warranty at birth
“Return to maker if faulty”,
Ten fingers, ten toes with perfect eyesight.
A free and fertile mind,
Its capacity is still unknown,
To be personalized to the parents’ specification.
What child thinks of such matter?
Food and play is all I could think about.
Mischief was part of life, as is being a nuisance
to the neighbor.
I was the gem of my parents’ lives,
They indulged me with their love,
The warranty was forgotten.
What path should I take?
A teacher, a doctor, a scientist or an artist,
My mind churns in indecision,
Stress my constant companion.
The world is broad yet life is narrow,
I’m an amateur, unschooled in navigation.
Maturity seems unattainable,
Frequently teased by failure,
My faculties are faulty,
Everything turns into a burden,
I am reminded of my warranty,
Is it too late to cash it in?
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