4

They say you hold the blueprint tight,
The key to every lock and door,
A shining beacon in the night,
The answer whispered, evermore.


Do shadows ever cross your gaze?
Do cracks appear within the plan?
Do stumbles mark your perfect days,
Or are you flawless, to a man?


Some gaze upon you, filled with awe,
A hero poised, a guiding light,
But I, I watch with tempered raw,
A history buried deep in night.


For arrogance has left its sting,
A bitter taste upon my tongue,
And whispers paint you as the king,
A judgment hastily begun.


But look at me, with judging eyes,
Condemning you for what you seem,
A hypocrite in thin disguise,
Lost in a self-constructed dream.


For perfection's a deceptive lie,
A gilded cage, a painted wall,
And if you claim to touch the sky,
I fear the harder you will fall.


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