The tap of the leather brown boots,

Exchanged for laces dragged across roots.


A pep in her step,

A tune to her whistle,

An easy cruise with her head in the sky.


Weekends spent with family, no friends.

Her four point was much shy of a stride,

Now she’s barely getting by.


Every day the same,

Slowly burning out the flame.


Progress became progression,

Progression to procrastination.


Questions of “What do you want to do?”

Now sighs of “What are you going to do?”


Every day writing in a book,

Not knowing anyone would ever look.


The source for all hope,

Offering to buy a weapon of rope.


Bonds so incredible and so inseparable,

Yet are so easily perishable.

No longer a person of trust,

Another relationship buried in the dust.


Friends make the world go round,

Which is why the world is falling down.


Every night a battle against her mind,

Her life no longer intwined.


A family by force,

Never whole since the divorce.


Surprising when something goes right in my life,

Running away from all signs of strife.

Quit what means the most to me,

Not caring of what I could be.


Writing was once an escape route,

Now permanently stuck on mute.


Every decision never thought through,

Never aware of the overview.


Too selfish to understand the consequences,

Always way too confident.


What was once a straight shot

Is now something that should be forgot.


New York University is too much work,

Sports mean a lot of homework.

Writing can never be a career,

Sacrifices for life in high gear.


No one to trust and no one to turn to,

My life something I wish I could undo.


Everything I do is falling apart,

Even though it was never together from the start.


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