"Where am I?" Speaking volume. I witnessed their victories.
Here is their springboard; they are lingering fiends inside my head--lurking melancholia.
"Excellence is never a sin," they chanted, while injecting into me with such force;
Reckoning every move to make, outstretching my limbs, yet remained unfathomable.
"Excellent's not the adjective I embody!" I shouted with shivers.
I have been eager; barefoot, I tirelessly looked for my circle.
Somber, still I ascended--high enough for people to witness. Are we playing?
My family, thy visage I admire. There, my mother's wearing her dear garment, and my father's a classic's offspring.
Ye stainless immaculacy of white, as pure as my youth's birth; I beseech my strength!
Pining, while I am peeling my skin! I now am sick due to this unhealthy, familial-made destiny;
Earth me up; they are earthing me up while I am hearing their negation.
Agonizing cheers, still I breathe, still I breathe naivety. Here I am,
Creating my words, as I feel the pain--
Excruciate! 'Tis the word written; vehemently surrendering down to my demise.
Utopia, I can see you, but hold not my hand.
Now, in my sorrow's taste I must devour;
Ire, this is my ire--my long-lived strike!
Vengeance, I shall embrace you; to you I rest my hap.
Earned, no more debt I must repay.
Revoke, I will revoke these springtime memories;
Shall they succumb to oblivion? These uncertain winds they soar; but,
Earth, shall you let me dig my own grave?
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