In the hole of the common, fear runs deep,
where the voice of the many stirs us from sleep.
Dress the same, speak without spark,
act like the crowd, it's mediocrity's mark.

Alienated souls, proud in their space,
yet some feel the pull and yearn to escape.
Clarity’s a pain, like islands alone,
different in values, they stand out, unknown.

Children are innocent, while the old face disdai...

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I've never been one to board common trains of thought.

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