I spent so much time —
crying and burying myself
I struggled with the weight on my shoulders —
its pain overpowering me.
But, no more.
I let it go.
I release it into the air —
almost as if it is a hundred ballots that I release towards heaven,
or dandelions whose petals are thrown into the wind.
I have wings,
I am flying now,
floating on the estasy of leaving this behind.
I deserve to be happy.
I went through enough,
so that’s the least that could happen.
I deserve a champion —
a prize fighter like Rocky.
I move forward,
hopeful that he shows up.
I don’t regret any of it.
It made me stronger,
it made me a fighter.
After all, I am Italian,
you know like Tony Soprano or John Gotti.
Getting through everything made me realize
I am worth it,
which is why I am cocky,
which is why I am full of myself.
It’s why I fly away from the clouds,
ready to feel the rays of the sun.