Instead, I prevail, pushing myself in the pursuit of a better me,
channeling all the things I see and seek into the art that leaks from my poetic veins, while most of you barely change.
The sun sets on your repeated madness, as you use drugs to dull this unsatisfying ache, seeking simple pleasures from the things that others make.
As I strike the golden core of who I am and who I seek to be you are drenched in the misery of your sick complacency, rushing to fill an ever growing hole, with more and more stuff.