Indulgence is not self-expression,

Nor can we all avoid repression,

That is said and done,

The world is overrun.

Finished without.

 

Mirrors as walls hold back,

All tears that make us crack,

I, but a number,

Yet I feel pulled under.

Smothered by.

 

The me which I put forth,

And the one of true worth,

Are at constant war,

Try I must, but what for?

Broken down.

 

Questioning worth,

Insanity set forth.

Morbid morality,

Threatens to swallow me.

Crushed under.

 

For I give degression,

As my life is not depression.

I live at least in part, happily,

The only judge, society.

Bothered with.

 

Hard and cold I reveal,

My exterior surely steel,

Cracking at each weld,

Cynicism, my Hell!

Hiding from.

 

Break down the wall,

Leaving narcissism tall,

 

 

Me…

The me below my mirage,

Is hidden under a visage.

And I must cast it,

…off.

 

I stand for a great ideal,

Thoughts for Earth to heal.

Life of love not lust,

For suffer death all must.

 

But the standard for me I set,

Wrought with past neglect.

Aspiring to take the world by storm,

Accomplishments to mourn.

 

Engineering a world of vibrant mind,

Inventions to forever bind,

My name to the pages.

To withstand all ages.

 

Forevermore my goal,

One piece to my whole.

That is the real me,

Now for the world to see.