Small steps

First is always the hardest
Second you turn, you burn
You are blinded on thirdwatch
Fourth keeps you decapitated
Hit the fifth, a wath of filth
Seconds to six, sick sheds you weak
On seven, semi geared for heaven
Eight comes, catches you awake
Armed on nine, you’re out of line
Now ten times faster, I discover
My shadow leaves me, it gets farther