"You Don't Really Want It That Bad"

If I could do anything
to be with you right now, I would
snap my fingers, clap my hands
wish on stars until
I found out how,

but
if I could do everything
to lay the ground, to pave the way
I'm paralyzed
looking around
they need me here
"They need me here,"
I say

And every day growing older
every day growing loud
almost audible, now
there's a voice of doubt:

"You don't really want it that bad.
Too bad you can't have it easy.
You can't have it at all, because
you don't really want it that bad.
Bad enough to reach out and seize,
and shake the tree until
everything falls."

I almost burned my hand on a star
by reaching too far,
almost close enough to grasp

or it seemed at the time it was.
I still feel the pain
of that empty hand

closing on nothing.
Unable to ask,

when wishes can't hold
what you're wishing for

there's a voice of doubt
inside, wanting more.