A name to have well known,
Does not become easy to own.
Or wear it comfortably.
Like a pair of shoes.
Worn after being used and abused.
Those witnessing come to expect,
This fit that appears perfect...
To connect to an arrogance.
Or something else to reject,
Found to find in their minds...
To warrant suspicion,
That objectifies one's position.
Anytime one climbs,
From pits to sunshine...
There will be opposition.
Coming out of mouths,
Creating nonexistent...
And outrageous stuff made up.
Anytime one climbs,
From behind shadows...
To win over personal battles.
Always it is perceived,
The doing was not strategic.
But had been assisted...
By a variety of opportunities.
Provided to one from which to pick.
And after one had been spun around.
To remove a blindfold that profits,
A delayed but assumed enthusiasm.
'Some are just 'lucky'...
To be able to climb out of pits,
Blindfolded.
And still have notoriety to them,
Handed.
Without it earned at all.'
-But I saw them crawl up,
From the lowest of ditches.-
'That's your opinion.
And today...
Opinions are worth more,
If they are overly exaggerated.
Yours to give is too specific.
Too honest and detailed.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem