Thoughts on Branching out

I am but a Nation of creation under shared, 

My words and actions treat me as though I am unprepared. 

I know these shoes are bigger than could ever meet my feet, 

Though I would think if I tried small I'd only taste defeat. 

I always knew I'd dream of bigger things than I could see, 

But how would I have thought of them if they were not for me? 

Maybe in the box that I had learned to call my home, 

I trapped myself unwillingly and wandered on the throne. 

I may be but a Nation of creation under shared, 

I'd like to think that I would rule just and almost fair. 

Though I have found this land I own is nothing but a plot, 

A cage for me to make believe in something I am not. 

A place for me to know myself where others simply dont, 

Though If I left i often wonder whether they would joke? 

This bubble of my Nation sitting wholly under words, 

Has sent to me a message from the sky once filled with birds. 

I can create; and though I could just sit upon my throne, 

Its time for me to spread my wings and write myself along. 

So pack my bags, 

And make my bed, 

And I'll be on my way, 

This world of others idle by could show my poems way. 

They may just seem like peasant jots to those beyond my sky, 

But fair and just is more to me than keeping myself shy.