You can say that I'm growing.
I guess you can say that,
but, my feet remain tender
and my legs remain weak.
So built in appearance, so honored in name.
However, I wish I could make my name become sane.
The shadows around me, fight for dignity and surround me.
But I am little you know?
Not every one knows.
The weakness inside me crumbles each and every living cell.
They say, its all in your head.
That I must leap on forward.
Can no one understand that I stumble in sand?
That these waves wash me backward and forward, backward and forward, backward and forward,
again, again and again?
But you say that I'm growing.
I guess you can say that.