It's in the hours late at night,
Early in the morning,
When the light is frighteningly absent,
That my soul lingers in deep pondering,
"How can I be great?"
A question with no small,
Or simple answer, but
I'm relieved at this,
Despite my negative thoughts
Which flow quite freely at these hours
A great person is not without fault.

All that I have yearned to achieve,
It lies in wait, like a holiday home
Waiting to be reached!
Although it ***** to have to work,
To suffer in something meticulous,
Or suffer some slings and arrows
Of complete misfortune,
Yes, I know this doesn't quite rhyme.
But despite all of this, there is hope,
And you mightn't see it just yet,
But this is the greatest hope!