Practice

Practice makes perfect,
Pretenses dispensed with,
Earnest and honest,
Relentess with talents.

Kept promises and was responsive,
with a composure fit and
enforced through practice.

The only way to Carnegie Hall,
Is through its repetition,
Despite its despicable nature,
The wager that it’s worth it,
The maddening task of practice, again,
With feeling,
Dealing with a dementia turned positive,
Mania folded again into itself
So delerium becomes a destiny,
Dementia a calling card and a household name,
Not for fortune or fame
Or esteem you can plot on a plane,
But its own gain,
Because true madness would be its absence,
A hole in your whole radiating like an abcess.

Progress,
This is three days without straying;
Worthiness to measure yet
Nobody could be stating.

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