Poet and Chandon.

Over the years i've become a good read. I noe what ppl want, how they will react, whether or not they have ulterior motives, etc...

The problem with me, as I see it, is that I just don't know how to react on that "intelligence". You see, I've been brought up as a polite person, but as you will notice, the frustration of the my "lack-of-action" has brought cracks upon my demeanour and so i've been letting some steam out, but the steam only serves to heat up the cracks and cause more fissures here and there.

The burden of my ability weighs down heavily on me. As the days past, i grow more weary of the seemingly unending path. But I hold fast to the truth. The truth that there is a great reward just before the end, and an even greater one, after.

But the cracks on my facade blow steam out, into my face. It gets into my eyes. I begin to sweat.

Then I come to a fork in the road. I am faced with a choice.

Persevere? or quit it all and give up.

For thine sake the answer best be the former. For I may just turn on you.

The burden of my gift, my trait, weighs heavily on my shoulders. I fear I may walk no more.

FusionStream, out.