Coming of Age

The weakness fluctuates from my head to my bones.

Travelling through veins with missing blood cells.

The weakness doesn't feel very weak. 

In fact it feels like the rush of a train.

Full on; and alerting.

And trains captivate me, and scare me to death. 

And i'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

Maybe it's speed that makes me curl up in the corner at night.

Maybe it's that everything goes too fast.

Tomorrow feels like years ago. 

The only thing that isn't fast is my progression.

It's feels as if i'm the only thing taking a break.

I struggle to see the real difference,

Between a break, and pure laziness.

What if biting my nails down to their beds so they can sleep,

Won't help me sleep at all?

What if all that matters in life is words, 

But not the type you admit at 3 in the morning. 

But the type the print on resumes, and school certificates?