I would have loved to write a while ago
But to let it go, casts a gaze
What's more void than for a captain who cast anchored a little while back to cast adrift?
What's more devastating than to have to leave the field, when the match just began?

I can't spell what I don't know, but my inkling is my alter ego
I know, this long walk that begrimed our feet with dust can also dust our feet
Though the dusting might not reach our expectations’ site

The school we farm on, can also fill our bowls at eventide
Though it empties our cisterns at drought
Forthrightly, may it give us something fulfilling and not end us before we end it

I pledge not to play cards with whatever drugs me relief
As I desire to expediate a race I’m yet to run
Because I fear I might loathe its design when I'm donned in the future
Truth be told, I long for my mother's bosom
Life scorches hard.