I’m a real boy,
I’m a real boy,
The wooden puppet Pinocchio cried,
As he danced on his strings,
A jig of denial to all that made sense
And aspired to what would never become,
For if it were true
And we could be anything we wanted to be,
He’d have donned flesh and blood
So to set himself free.

But whatever you’re told,
Whatever you would aspire to be,
Some things are not options,
Are not on the list.
You can rise far above where you currently are
Can become a new person
Learn talents not currently known
Have successes heaped around you
Win the praise of all men
But they’ll still be things beyond reach

There needs to be realism
In the counsel we give
We need to ensure if we offer the stars
That the pathway is there
It’s not a distance too far
And to make clear that the path to those heights
Is not easy and make the consequences clear
For too many have been heard say
“If only I had known”
Or, ”No one warned me of this”

Yes, metaphorically you may fly
You could soar to great heights
Have all that you dreamed of
If with reason you’ve dreamed
But I say again some options are closed
Don’t let the well meaning lead you astray
For if your life is created by the pull of a string
There’s something you want
That will never come to be
A real boy is a wish too far.