There is an uproar for elites
Lads that have out grown childhood
Sisters that have become mothers
They never fail, they are omini glorious
I'm trying to hold the ever running hands
To grace the face of knowledge and fame
I keep running but back into my cocoon
With no experience I stare in awe
Where do I stand.?
Is there a place for the black sheep ?
The ones that look nothing like their predecessors
The square pegs in a round hole
I know nothing about greatness
I hold no cure to low self esteem
We're everywhere and we're broken
Grace the great, Grace us too.
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