Growing up is hard to do.
I try not to cry in a train station,
Knowing my days are numbered that I will be there,
Since I was fifteen, I’ve dreamed of fire escapes and small apartments,
But it is hard to unlock the window,
When it’s safe behind the glass.
The world waits for no one,
And rarely do I look before I begin to swim.
It is time to find my rhythm again.