You're as free as the autumn leaves,
and I'm trapped in last winters snow.
I'm stuck in the footholds I left here last year,
and it's grip isn't letting up.
I can't leave but I don't want to stay here.

I don't want to feel like this.
Nausea, uncertainty, and a lack of familiarity.
I'm far from home, I'm out of place.
I used to have a compass built into my head,
but right now I've never been more lost.

This doesn't come easy to me.
I'm not a natural and I've never been good with words.
I've torn up everything I've written.
Either out of frustration or lack of confidence in my work.
I don't know how other people can do it.
Everything seems forced,
Everything seems fake.
I want to be like those I look up to,
but wanting to be like them only stops me from being me.
I want to show the world who I am and what I have to say.
I've just yet to find the words.