My thoughts are increasingly incomplete
I feel so inefficient
I’m losing my technique
My concentration’s distant, and,
My vision’s obsolete
It’s like my whole existence
Is forbidden to succeed
I think I am becoming less unique..
What might be still, is hidden
It glistens down beneath
Passionately vivid,
Driven, and so free
In time, it will have risen, from
This prison of defeat.
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