Truth is obnoxious in many fine ways
The face of acceptance obscured, but a haze
My dreams are much better, safer and sound
Yet still they’re but dreams, neither disclosing nor profound
I don’t understand what life tells me, or care
Anymore for the futility of my personal war
I can’t comprehend what I’ve done, won’t debate
How I’ve inherited, come to this unfathomable fate
Yes call me defeatist, a quitter or queer
I’m all of those, more, ‘tis the course I’m born to steer
And still I go forward, in spite of the curse
And knowing it will never get better, just worse
What force has this life, this glimmer we’re given
That fuels our desires, from which we are driven
Towards destiny, fate, some fortuitous cheer
Ha, never will I be one to endear
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