So long to the format, a bitter fill-in-the-blank document, something void of character, lacking in quality, and unusable. How dare you criticize me when you have denied me something tangible, you incomprehensible phony, you inexperienced quack. And on the day you beat us all, the sun will slip behind the western sky, and it will fail to rise, an eclipse as brilliant as an atomic blast will puncture the heavens, and life will eternally cease to exist, my father awaits me.
We have nothing to hide from you, and we have nothing to fear.
Once, long ago, we took a measure of the stars, and my brother laughed with me, and against the tide we were.
"It doesn't matter if they like you or not, for you belong to something better, something unexplainable."
Of them all, he loved me the most, and his words were true, not hollow, or masked with sympathy. I continued to listen, for he was a poet, and his wisdom arched across the plains, and the mountains of our home so far away.
"Your life, the road you travel, is unique, and your vision is clear."
And this is why they would throw me away.
