Winning has never been a source of satisfaction,
It has never made me proud, nor given me validation.
Praising and recognition feel truly suffocating.
I need no name, I need no honor, nor a trace of fame.
I need to be alone, I need to sense the freedom,
Which from me is taken away,
Tainted with the insincere loathsome,
Once entangled with people.
With success comes the recognition,
Followed by the idle praisings, fooling credits,
Now dressed up in the clothes of some comic reputation,
Strangled by the brutal hands of idiotic expectations. ...