It’s like I was born for this.

Constantly fight,

To be right,

Yet somehow

Always be wrong.

The greatest saboteur,

Of my endless struggle,

Remains the one

Who can’t give up?

Won’t give in to desire.

To be happy is to live in failure.

So I live for the trifles of my own

Desperate attempts to stifle

The world I erected

My able, but stagnant soul

Is screaming inside

For release from this game

Called failure,

That I am so good at playing.

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