a poem

I Feel Like I'm Writing a Bildungsroman; I'm Just Stuck On Part One 
Fortune smiles your way,
And while I'm not quite frowning
I'm asking Mother Nature what's so natural here.
She's tells me she doesn't control all the plans
And while she'd love to help me it's quite out of her hands.
See, Father Time does all the dealings with fate and the like
And he's not talking to me until I start making better use of my time.

I could pitch a bitch and complain that everything is too hard
But I'd rather pick myself up, collect all my shards.
I'd rather show the world exactly what I've got.

So, I'm building up karma and I'm keeping busy
I'm finding out what she's been doing ain't easy
Just a stupid boy with some stupid plans 
But for right now I'm fine with that
I don't need an answer; I need a question
I'm inquisitive without a sense of direction
But I'm packing up and moving out.
Not for good just for now.
I'm taking hold, taking control, and Lord knows...
I want it so badly; let's go