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.