i sit high on a hill

                                                               torturous was the climb    

                                                               but a quiet conviction seized me–      

                                           the view would be better than they said          

                                              a mountain of people stood in front of me   

                                        endlessly projecting praise, solidifying my purpose          

                                  vivid visions filled my head; immovable yet empowering           

  i sit high on a hill

                                          watching the world wobble on    

                                                                a wanderer who has found their peak

                                   the cold air prickles; i blister at its sensation

                                                           clouds parade above; the sole thing i can’t touch

                                                                                                          hungry eyes swarm below, catching a faint sight of me 

                                                                                                          the hollow echoes of old ambitions & glory softly brush past

Oh! How –

wonderful it must be at the top!                                                                                                     lonely it is at the top!