Full of determined, and almost there.
Working and working for the burden I bear.
From first square to second, and then to the third,
But the goal I find wavering, the finish line blurred.
Fearing less than success, I strive forward with dread,
Failures of past, desperately wanting to shed.
Saving my face—an increasing priority,
Feeling insistence from social authority.
Fright’s building accretion; it’s heavy with stench.
Being like Casey-never over the fence.
But still I push forward, trying my best.
Soon task will near end, with me fearing success.