The fight for intellect is strong and stern.

This race by fire will remove those unworthy, and burn

Away the bits of them that give them what they need;

A suppressed smile, a subtle wave, the notice that their souls they feed.

Few are able, few will finish. If I can just remain whole...

The wear and tear on my mind mirrors that of my soul.

 

This place is not home to the court jester or the flirtacious maids.

By round one, they have been banished to the lowest caves

Where the white screens lay them out and take their reservations,

And leave them rambling of misandry, failure, and desertions.

I must put aside my childish ways, and become the scholar

Of knowledge and maturity. My battle is not for one more dollar.

 

My battle is instead for learning. Ich habe Hunger, Ich habe Durst!

I must know more. I have been blessed; I have been cursed.

My head will not be sated with a number or a simple letter.

I must know more. My desire is not to be better.

My desire is for movements. Social or artistic, civil or across the sea.

My desire is for drama, music, political science. I want math and history.

 

The push and pull is dragging me back. My path is set but I am not.

My feet are infirm, and my head is spinning. I fear I have been caught

In the middle of a ferocious war. I am so tired. My heels ache,

My soul breaks under stress and strain. I must take

Whatever chance I get to walk across the coals...

The wear and tear on my mind mirrors that of my soul.