Better than your own,
In which you're doing what brings you joy,
With nothing that you owe,
With nothing but encouragement,
For everything that you do,
And accolades and peace and love all around,
Flowing into you,
Can be enough to get you through the day,
And society's banking on that,
For there's no room for everyone to succeed,
And still suppress humanity's nack,
To be alright,
Nay, to be supberb,
And build towers right up to heaven.
Though, why it thinks that way, I am not sure.
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