Stumbling Through

Running from days that wear down the soul,

every step feels like the end of a rope,

the halls echo laughter, but I feel so small,

as grades slide like shadows, where's the hope?

Failing a test, they laugh, but I burn,

each paper a weight that I carry and throw,

a frayed backpack slumped against that fence,

full of whispers that cut, where’s the flow?

Life’s a treadmill—never a finish line,

it goes on and on, and I’m gasping for air,

every struggle I hold, feeling less than divine,

but I rise, keep moving, like I’m caught in a snare.