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Where is the line?
When does fighting for your dream
become a self-defeating quest?
When do obstacles become signs
intended for you to regard,
when is it merely
a test of determination.
Would the end be the same,
whether forced or allowed to flow
to its fated conclusion?
Would it differ?
Other than the acquisition of a shadowing darkness,
the consequence of possession,
other than having stolen the pleasure gifted,
for you to’ve derived from it, given time?