The future is never written in stone. I tell myself that every day, but I still seem to find the feet of yesterday, wandering aimlessly. Nothing has changed, but the world is different. My life remains out of reach, and I am the ghost in the crowd. My voice is carried by the wind, and the pen is crying. The door is open, but I still remain half inside, thinking my life is set in stone. I will never live the dream, but to believe that is to surrender. And the future is never written in stone. I tell myself that every day, and I try to break free from yesterday. And I still try.