I'm woken by a dirge. The music for the lost souls played in memory of my dreams who sadly passed away. I hear the sound of mourning coming from within; my heart is drowned by tears and I become salty.
I have been reduced to nothing but an empty shell of my glory days, no longer the high flyer who saw eye to eye with the Eagle-I now scour for crumbs.
The intelligentsia take pride in their knowledge, walking in pride as they converse. I'm hiding away from ostensible illumination as the darkness always seems to suit me; I am lost.
For I was told of my promise from a young age. I was spoken of as a protégé, a once in a while talent and one who would illuminate. Perhaps I tried too hard to live up to this unwarranted hype and faltered yet in my attempts to be so I have wasted time in limbo, so I must rise up from the ashes of my cremated dreams and be the best of whatever I am now.
