If e'en just in your mind,
One moment you hold hope for anything,
Next, there's nothing to find,
Only the surety that you've no talent,
Nor appeal to others,
The whole world shareing an understanding,
Passed down by all except by your father,
That prescribes a way to speak hid from you,
Leaving you odious,
While last week you were on top of the world,
The future glorious,
But here's the trick,
It requires faith of sorts,
That everyone else has the same feeling,
With no way of knowing the truth, of course.