Let me begin;
I’ve raced the trails,
with all of the snails,
I’ve lost every time,
and never will I win,
getting caught in slime.
I’ve earned my badges,
come back from ashes,
eaten the worm,
and become the swarm.
No matter if I’m proud,
because I lost my loud,
and pencil scratches will,
be my matches until,
my voice is a flamethrower,
and i break my holster,
and unleash at the world,
singed but hair still curled.
So this is no end,
and for that I’m glad,
and I do intend,
never again to dread.