Not Yet

Personal Perception seems to be divine,
But what's the conception of one looking from the outside,
Questions of deception fill inside my brain,
Instead of expressions or suggestions I'm just pulled a different way,
I feel as though I'm together and the only one who's sane,
But then why does it seem like I'm always the one to blame,
I was born into a world of suffering and pain,
And I promised on my mother's grave that my son wouldn't have the same,
The way I keep perplexing is typical,
Actions from their directions are hypocritical,
You would think I would learn my lesson the way I keep getting ridiculed,
But the essence of myself is what's really critical,
I've reached the pinnacle and I'm ready to fly,
Searching for answers as I look into the sky,
This spark inside has kindled, not yet am I ready to die.