I never wanted to be the best
Just a little eager perhaps
Adamant on making the right kind of an impression
Leave an indelible mark ’til sparks absolutely flew
Although more often than not a manic version of myself
Fearful at ending up old and alone, forever forgotten upon that shelf of hope
One hell of a slippery slope
War paint said to be heaven-sent, supposedly so
Desperately longing for my next sentence to work in complete unison
Perfectly aligned, the most giving mind-prison in the world
No room for anything veering on the absurd

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