Shadowed

To be out in the shade,

Everyone around moves in immensities

I sit, watch and wonder.

Everyone seems to move

As if with speed, with grandeur, with divine purpose.

When will mine come?

Even the skinks climbing the backyard in which I preside produce perfection.

When will I?

Will I?

My slumped shoulders don't carry me there.

My failing attitude holds me down. 

How does one change so utterly, that they are honestly no longer the same.

My road to success lays in another, so what's my point, or purpose?

The shade keeps me cool. 

I was however born cold, so that's a problem. 

There are no benefits. 

There is no relaxation nor peace. 

Counting each moment the sun is up

Patiently waiting for my day.

Pruning another's hard work has never felt natural,
then again creating my own has never become natural.

I have always been a white wash,
a face in the classes,
I wouldn't know how to change if given the chance
I hope the divine hands knows how to find me in this shade.