Look up in the sky,

It’s a bird, it’s a plane…

NO! It’s the flying failures for which you damn yourself.

Disappointment and regret have circled above you like vultures,

Preparing to prick and prod at your spirit on the forest floor.

Enthusiasm has transformed to defeat.

Shouts of well wishes are now whispers of speculation and doubt.

Imaginary trumpets in a parade to...

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