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T-A-L-E-N-T
The T in talent are pieces of tampered glass
Subjugated under capitalism,
And meticulously carving out worthlessness
on the talented's carcass.
The A stands for all the crumbs of appreciation
You collect along your way, feeding your right and just pride
Humbled by a dilemmatic correlation
of efforts and proudness.
The L is tricky, which maybe the love
Or the life that seeps into you through your work,
The ingenuity dies as L extinguishes,
and you will bear the blame of the consequences.
Once you are done loving, you get greeted with E.
The empathetic reign you have grown from flesh and dust
Withers and begs for sympathy, waiting patiently
for a high class judgement from the unnamed jury.
All the nihilistic N you preached,
Comes down to your questioning of moralism,
What great have you achieved with your nothingness,
compared to someone sewing life with devotion?
The T in talent stands for the time
A soul wastes on fixing the tampered glass,
But someone like you who knows how to stand up,
start with talent tomorrow, a journey from zero regardless.
Copyright ©
Cloud Fever
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