Halfway there.
There is no turning back.
I must push, shove, and climb to stay on track.
There is no failure.
No starting to slack.
Until I have earned my merit
I must not crack.
My dried tear stains.
My bloodied wounds.
Have been exposed.
There is nothing
and yet everything to loose.
Somehow a mustard seed of hope stays intact.
For I want to see my name in the first position plastered on that plaque.
It might be a selfish act
but to see how you'd react
would in fact please me.
We'd both know how much I tried to reach this place
Back when I was
Halfway there.