High above its head,
Rejoicing in the accolades it's handing you,
Its expectations fed.
But like life itself, it's so uncertain,
That you can be all it has proclaimed,
The doubt brimming so close to the surface,
Waiting to burst forth with blame,
Which itself is inevitable,
Unless you are, in truth, everything,
The world needs from one moment to the next,
Which is counter to the nature of human beings.
But it's alright,
If you've been raised and dropped before you die.
As long as you grabbed as much as you could while lauded,
And have enough money not to care for such wiles.
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