When all is quiet and still,
And only the sound of my own heart can be heard,
There overcomes me a feeling,
A feeling of loneliness
Audible yet unto myself.
It is behind this mask
Of smiles and frivolity
That I hide,
Hidden from others pain
And imprisoned within my own.
Why was my lot cast
In such a sullen muse
As to pretend potential,
When all that comes to bare
Is the feeling of loss and defeat.
Oh, but what humor exist
In the mighty plan of God
That I am given the desire,
The desire to achieve
But left vacant of the ability.
If I had but a chance to change
So much of what had come before,
There would be another man;
A man of wealth and pride
Writing out this lore.
But yet it is i
Of the i of failure and despair,
Trapped within the mind of success,
In the minds of accomplishment,
In the i of me.
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