Another mold, another path, another life imposed on me.
Built on your ideas of what you think I should be.
But your constructs, your expectations I have overcome.
Unlike the feet that march in time to the beating of your 
drum.
The other side, a different way,
A world you'll never see submerged above your head in 
predictability.
To some I will have more, to others i'll have less,
Depending on the scales in which you measure my success.
Its time that you break out of their mold and live.
Live your life unbound.
Breakout from standards set and precedent.
Blind acceptance, without question, lowered to your 
knees.
Unfulfilled potential: your only guarantee.
Patterns set and recognized, like tiles on the floor,
Echoing repetition down an endless corridor.
All this time you had thought that you were stepping up,
And the fruits of all your labor would surely fill your 
cup.
But for every step you've taken, the effort was in vain.
The only destination reached was the bottom of your 
grave.