At the age of fourteen,
I stand at the pinnacle of my success.
But behind the mask I made stands my weak self,
Drowned in depression and social phobia.

I thought that standing at the summit,
The peak that looked so far from me
Will amend all my dedication and practice.
But you know what?
The more my success is looked up to,
The more I feel like a monster.

The success I traded for my childhood,
The monster called “success” wants me to achieve more,
Reach towards the stars with all I am worth.
The greed that was one my weapon now tries to swallow me up,
Chain me to my pinnacle I achieved.

An icon of hope turned into an icon of hate,
All the others wish for me to get out of this game.
People don’t understand,
It’s not that I couldn’t win it,
It’s that I didn’t.

It’s not that others didn’t hurt me,
It’s because you couldn’t!

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