Extremism

Short of majesty

Humbled I crawl

With dawning certainty

That my life was scribbled

My life was scrawled  

The paper was soiled 

The ink diluted 

cold now, where once it had boiled

My heart is

for this world unsuited

For the ink i found my tears the culprit 

At the orchestra of my undoing 

Im at the pulpit 

Their is no misconstruing

In my mind, bandits run lawless

Shoved in the cracks 

It seems i have found 

Myself in the nowhere

On my head is no crown 

No crown of adoration 

No crown of high self esteem 

Just a deep seated loathing

When you look at me You think extreme