September 13, 2012
It’s like a stench or a foul odor you can’t escape from
It is the consummation of your own misery
Constantly in your system
Coursing through your veins
Beating on you like a drum
But never reaching
The world incessantly at war
To grasp their desired aspirations
In pursuit of humanity’s approval
We’re left emotionally slain
Failing is not an option
In a society where perfection is contemplated
Yet it’s saturated in imperfections
You can’t evade its choking grip
Eventually, you’ll become your own predator
Fighting yourself and the world
Until someone is crowned victor

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