Terrified. I'm terrified,
Of the future,
Of what it holds for me.
It's torture,
To sit here and endure this.
My mind claws,
At the many possibilities.
My mind crawls,
Slowly like a small baby,
Through them.
The shelves of books,
All containing my fears, my hopes,
Tower above my weary looks.
How am I supposed to live?
Shall I be a creative artist?
Maybe a musician?
A grand guitarist?
Am I good enough?
Good enough to reach my goals?
Am I able to succeed?
Or will success slip from my hands like milk from cracked bowls?
Never fear,
For I will try.
Though I must worry,
And sometimes cry.
My heart clenches,
With my every fear,
I brace myself carefully,
Readied for the next year.