There is no destiny; no one is controlling your traction,
No apparition determines your life like a fraction.
Blame can't be shared for any eternal dissatisfaction,
No fate can decide your course of action.
Rolling continuously as a wheel; with no preplanned direction,
If you spin aimlessly now, mistakes will fill your collection.
But you should never turn back to make a correction,
No one should achieve that unearthly perfection.
Don't even attempt, because you'll surely spin out trying,
Your mistake is your choice, so it's yourself you'll be denying.
If you turn back and retry; there's fear of self you'll be implying,
You can try to mask the fear, but your conscious can tell if you're lying.
And will turn afraid of that mistake, so much that it can't learn,
Mistakes will flourish, and mislead your consciences' next turn,
As it fails, it will give up hope, your acceptance it has to earn,
So fed up and sick of it all, that your conscience will lack your concern.