To what do I owe My own self for knowing not???
Still. in the realms of nothing, knowing
yet a thing
Selfishly, I owe my own self
For the plague of learning, recieving and not searching
Accepting mediocrity as It was given, nothing, really
Oh I really had something.
BUT
It was yet a thing
Only reaching in
Feeling what my own self is worth
Grasping an ALL TOO obtainable energy of knowledge,
An idea of understanding I could never even observe
So dreadfully easy to obtain
I opened up my hand
Still, I had yet a thing.