When do you make believe
To survive and
When
Do you see yourself

As you are?

The I guides the former
I
And yet it drives
Hope
To better the present
To become
The future.

An orange
Never hopes
To be
More ripe.

The fruit,
As with literary fiction
And the metaphors with which
We mediums continue
To obsess over to break
Yet another ceiling deemed as

Progression,

Advancement;

Oh' sweet realization.