Nothing is as it seems. Something sinister, time seems, but these thoughts just stream into my consciousness, throwing me for a loop.
I’ve struggled for eleven years, and began to believe that I would never reach what was at the top of that mountain. The one I desperately clawed my way up, searching in vain to find my name scribbled with the rest.
But I never did.
However, things have changed and I’m seeing wild imagination that was once tame.
With windy days and air conditioning turned up high, I dare to believe that maybe I could fly. Maybe, after all of this time, the turn to shine is mine. Because of these words I write, deep into the night. I hope that I get them right because I don’t ever want to give up this sight.
Fickle bones and small throwing stones; I hoped that I could be among those on the throne. The throne of the success that I pleaded so desperately for, for people around the world to hear these words built up at my core. And now my eyes deceive me.
For my name written now; after eleven years I am finally here for sure.