Are you yet living?
You who pass as normal?
On this hub of land you wear
The two colors that look good on no one.
I look at the footprints in the sand
and I realize,
I have everything.
You are almost transparent,
Yet I see you as if it were daylight.
You act as if it were all prearranged,
And you tell me that the gates of hell will not prevail.
I have a hand that dares to cease
The fires of mesiocrity.
And as I lay there dying,
I hear you whisper in my ear,
"You made me proud."
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