Myself

I walk forever with a closed fist

For I can hear the world mock me feverishly

I am angered and misunderstood

Chip on my shoulder

Like broken ceramics

I don't know the origin of myself

I divert myself from the path that you all hike

People cry as I walk away

Wailing for my soiled future.

But is it surely tarnished?

Like ravaged sheets?

I am certain that  I do not know what is certain with certainty:

However, I do know that I am certain that I will always be myself.

Therefore, any decision I make for myself is the correct one.