Power Tower the Lower Grower - Stream of Consciousness

I feel the power,
of the tower.

Lower levels,
deep and beveled,

the words they scream
'Release the beam'

I fell apart,
failure to start.

Breaking the chains
down the drain.

Vegetation burned,
lessons unlearned,

Animals fried,
and the tears I cried,

fell to my feet,
I have been beat.

I assume the worst,
bested by Durst,

Fred himself,
back on the shelf,

His broken record,
betrayed accords.

The biscuits are limp,
and life it is simple

A pustule, a cyst,
a pimple.