You Just Can't

Dear personal overachiever,
You can't sign a treaty with perfection because it's always taking refuge up in trees and you refuse to climb.
You can't offer death a cigarette and socialize because it's trying to quit and you don't even smoke.
You can't send life a bouquet of roses and a letter home because you don't know where it lives, just somewhere between heartbeats and rib cages.
Well, You just can't, understand?
You can't change the course of rivers,
you can't seize the cycling grief of lakes.
You can't promise to send the world shaking when you're too afraid of your own damned mistakes.
You say you're a traveler and yet you haven't left home,
you say you're a singer but you haven't risen your voice.
Well, you can't tread oceans without your feet becoming tired and you can't shout a song whose chorus you don't know.
You can't ride on the backs of sparrows or paper airplanes because, let's face it, you're just not as weightless as you try to make yourself believe.
And finally: you can't gain knowledge when you're reading books with faded pages.
Remember, age does not make history. I'm not even sure it makes experience anymore.
Sincerely,
well, you just can't