I dream of a life, where I am who I want to be.
When I look up, others do not frown upon me.

Instead I see those who were once on this land, trusting that who I am..

Is who I’m meant to be.
For no one can question my identity.
I forge my own character and no one else can mould it for me.

As I sculpt the clay with my own two hands,
I make big mistakes and I make greater plans.

Once it is made and eventually dries,
Sections of it crack,
As I slowly die.

And on the last day,
God will let me shine,
For I am more than a lump of lifeless clay,

I am a precious dime.