So many fine-lighted days have been wasted.
Peering out the window at a fresh,
new running track.
I could use that sun,
after panicing about tests,
straining to walk with two thick books in my pack,
I am fragile.

So many fine-lighted days have been wasted,
staying in a place, 
where even your face is judged.
Never able to go,
never to leave,
or make a choice.
Passive thinking,
to make life easier.

So many thoughts,
and smiles,
that I can never know.
The light I know,
is a dim glow,
but is hope.

So many fine-lighted days have been wasted.
Follow the beacon,
find the light,
both inside and out.
In life,
not a speck should be missed.