To place yourself out of time,
And place to get a look,
At that for which you pine,
Which is everything that you are not,
Because the nature of human beings,
Is to forever be dissatisfied,
And searching,
For your ideal self. It doesn't matter who you are,
No one is exempt,
Even if you are admired by most,
There is always something left,
That will make you alright,
If you only had it.
And until you do, which is impossible,
You'll always be discontent.
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