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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1629901
It's so easy to see things in others that aren't really there.
And yet, you all keep calling me Leader.
And so you say that I am meant to shine.
But, know me for more than a minute, my dears-
You shall see I am not so divine.

Calm, and poised! And regal, you say?
And yet, you may be quite right quite until
I scream out your name and I tell you in vane
How you shame me exceedingly still.

Call attention to my cater and patience-
Two traits any teacher must show.
Though, I cater only to my self-indulgence,
And yet, I’m patient not when the wind blows.

It howls and cracks in the background,
Whilst I whistle and whip right before you;
You have not yet seen what you never could dream:
A me that will harshly reform you.

You are jaded by a diaphanous image,
A placating façade I’ve befitted you with-
With my inability to properly be
Who I really am or to stand tall and fit
That image I’ve hidden that only comes out
When the winds whip so highly and heavily shout
All my secret intentions, tearing this image devout
How they clutter, and clout! How they sputter and spout!
Yes, those bastard traditions are walling them out!

Can’t you see, I’m a monster?
Dear, God! Cut it out!
Stop calling me Leader!
Stop saying I am so easily fit to sit
On this throne of cold stone
You all have inexplicably burdened me with!

I am nothing like this shimmering, infallible, exterior shell.
Inside I writhe in an abominable, execrable hell
From which I was spat.
And yet, you still simply cannot fathom that?
But that, my dears is all I can say,
There simply is nothing left for me to tell.
And so, farewell, my good friends.
Fare you well.
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