Lost

 The salted lines are all that remain 

on the contours of my face.

I know that it's not a permanent stain

but I will never forget this fall from grace.

We live in the search for green.

Green that will help keep us alive.

But am I not just a teen?

When did this race go into overdrive?

I am not a runner.

I am me.

I am not a genius.

I am me.

I am not impervious.

I am a human.

When I am hit, I bleed.

When I am hurt, I cry.

When I am broken, I scream.

Who signed me up for this monstrous game?

Am I to take this on alone?

How do I strive to make my own name

when I don't know what it says on my tombstone?

There is no rubric or rule book.

Where do I learn to grow?

School taught me to write a hook

but how do I know where to cast my throw?

I don't know where to go,

the green is not endless.

How do I know that this is where I will glow?

How do I know that I will find success?

I wipe the salted streaks away

and I am once again on the road.

I keep the buildup at bay

just long enough to sprint behind my door to explode.