Holding on to sharp objects

Decorating the ceiling

Counting the hours until it begins

Emotions run high like the first day of summer

Screaming for the conclusion of God's plan

Here I sit, pondering, shouting, as I run from nothing

Etched in black, memories of my first step

Relaxed to the point of dreaming and I begin to run from nothing

Run from nothing and you get there fast

Stumbling on to that sharp object until it's gone

Standing to be counted, to be excepted

I no longer feel inferior