A tyrant on your back,
You are climbing a mountain to nowhere,
For things you think you lack,
Expectations told to you by others,
They, too, have their burdens,
Conjured up, like an illusionist's trick,
So that all but what is real is certain,
The truth does not need to be sought after,
It is already there,
Just clear the smoke and cover the mirrors,
Lay your own ideals bare,
Others will see,
If not, they'll benefit,
For you will recognize their truth as well,
Shining a light on and exalting it.
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