Peacocking Through Time

My defiance is one of many bulwarks
I ostentatiously boast when
My cloak isn't relevant.
Part of a pseudo-diabolical guide
-Inherited from my ancestors-
To fool myself and others,
In order to remain
Enigmatic.
There's a fractured line
Scribbled in black sand,
That vaguely bisects us from
Who we are and
Who we pretend to be.
An ambiguous grey area,
That rests just below eye level.
We're all denizens of
This overcrowded loop
In time.
It's where our well programmed existence
Idles,
Where failure is hailed as success,
Where the mundane is considered contentment,
Where complacency runs rampant.
I pledge to fight this disease,
One slow uncomfortable change
At a time.
I raise my head,
Stand tall,
And move forward
With no detours or pit-stops.
This is it,
True to myself,
It's my world and
I won't Stop.

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