When people ask me:- “Are you strong?”
I point, that their question’s wrong,
I say:- “It’s not just really all the strength,
That helps survive you to this length.
But how, this length, you do perceive
Through all the friction you recieve.”
When people tell me:- “Wrong, you might be!”
I flail them, “That depends on how you see.”
They preach how strength and even power
Is grown with friendly people’s shower
Of their goodwill and blessings; “That’s thin”
I say and add, “This first comes from within…”
They scream and shout, “How dare you!?”
Of egoism, in this debate, they me do sue.
“A little scared they’re, ‘s what I think
To face their sins and cross that brink,
Confess of evil thoughts lurking their mind
And speak of how they fight ’em for mankind”
Each day, each night, each dusk, each dawn,
Pitch black heed grows our mind upon.
We strive, we fence, we burn, we fight,
With morals, ethics, brought up might
And frown when fellow strikes amiss
And finds oneself in dungeon bliss
He is not strong, not strong at all,
For him his friendly people took the fall
And now all they all do is just repent
On how ugly scary was his dissent,
And how they had in this no hand
And this was only his failure grand!
The lonely bastard’s hit hard by wall
How people standing by him tall
Now vanish, never to be seen,
While once lost mind, is never clean,
And there he sits in stone cold cell,
With all well-wishers, lest wish well.
He sees now, that this sin his- grave,
If only once he were that brave,
To shut them out, stay solo- soul,
And let his wicked thoughts to crawl
And face them straight with no advice
From friendly people- witless’ demise.
Then maybe, maybe he’d have seen
That strength he seeks is there within
And darkness shunt away, aside,
That right came with no one beside.
For no one’s wicked born with head,
But it grows unto them instead.
But what is done, is done and stains,
And now he’s left to endure the pains
Of heavy chains and morbid thoughts,
With none, but hope of grimly sorts
That perseverance’s all what’s left
Now, lonesome burden for him to heft.
He might not live to tell his tale,
But this- a thing one must not fail,
To seek and find within that good
Which makes one strong or so it should
At least to judge oneself permit
Where people rise, where fall in pit.