This is the life you were telling me about?
You had me dreaming so big, never anticipating fear.
Way to just let this bubble burst.
Here I am expecting with supreme expectations, carefully planning, making preparations.
And starving my soul from losing control, until one day I have filled up this bowl.
Filled to the brim each spoonful of faith.
Why? Because I drink my soup to prevent being weak.
Each week: the impervious wall towers overhead.
And the spiral staircase stares me in the face.
Solid steps pierce my flesh with a glare so intense, and in a sense, I stop.
My spine so confined in a space undefined.
Dead in my tracks, I forget how to relax.