Be Humble

I see you’re in the 99th percentile, yet you’re one hundred thousand miles from terra firma. Calculate those pro formas and try formally justifying your desert. I would just desert you on a random island and let those waves kiss your pristine cheeks until you’ve tasted a drop of sweet redemption. I see you’re of the belief that you are indeed special, that you think there’s freewill in addition to fate. I say fuck the delta. Did you choose to be who you were born to be? Far more than a tautology. Yes, I did not suspect so. I see those little insecurities gnawing at your being like tapeworms, those pitiful improprieties clawing your reasoning and honest labor. Why don’t you savor the moment and know that you’re whole and feel no real need to speak more than you know. Bitch, be humble. So?