Current mood: contemplative
I’ve always been a lost soul,
the black sheep, a bad cold.
People near me always scold,
blinded by my heart of gold.
I realize now, as this unfolds,
that this is how you fool the bold.
The life of courage, the man of pride
is all but gone in the blink of an eye.
They try, they’re weak, they’re meek, denied
to abundant suffering in life applied.
I wish I could help, as they think of more lies;
giving damnable welts when you choose paradise.