I nibble my nails when things are unsteady.

The sun’s on my back, but I bite them today

and will walk the stage before I am ready.

An adulthood beginning in disarray.

Learning, reading Kant on a white page forever?

Putting the book away just feels wrong in spring.

In the summer, I’ll remember this endeavor

Painting myself to portray talents I bring.

I recall the sun shining down on my spine.

Dreams are anchored down for the next few seasons.

Trapped in grey, and like an animal, confined,

you’ll sit at a desk for all the wrong reasons.

I have to ask myself if this is my fate,

stuck in a cubicle that fits no one’s tastes.