My mind is ancient
The more I attempt to translate it into modern lexicon
The more frustrated I grow
Like a language that is unpalatable
A sun that cannot be observed too closely
But the true agony is
To watch a crowd cheer
For a mediocre imitation of what I first conceived of
A flicker of a candle in comparison
That is hell
Aug 27, 2025
Aug 27, 2025 at 4:40 PM UTC
My mind is ancient
The more I attempt to translate it into modern lexicon
The more frustrated I grow
Like a language that is unpalatable
A sun that cannot be observed too closely
But the true agony is
To watch a crowd cheer
For a mediocre imitation of what I first conceived of
A flicker of a candle in comparison
That is hell
They say imitation is a form of flattery, but I don’t like being flattered
Request permission to use this poem