I’ve fallen for the sound of my voice
Spilling high and mighty words
Meant to nurture
All the endless, breadlines of scholars

In truth, I can only be adored
By the haze of my treasured delusions

By the statuesque anthems
That I thoughtlessly carve
And christen: Eternity

My days are but short-lived peaks
Then tearful death-spirals
For humility’s arms, then repeat

The higher I fly
The more bones I am fated
To shatter upon impact

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