I think of things I cannot say,
these thoughts of me haunts me day by day.
So I write.
I write to keep these monsters away.
I write so that the good memories will stay,
and the bad ones won’t cause dismay.

I write so I can sleep.
I write when I weep.
I write to clear my mind.
I write if I’m not fine.
I’ll write about the finest wine.
I write if I have time.

I’ll write these memories of mine.
I’ll write words so sweet for the woman I’ll love.
I’ll write stories about angels from above.
I’ll write tales of demons.
I’ll write about people’s creations.

In my writings are words so deep,
that will make the bravest men weep.
And strong men weak.
Write poems that the ladies will seek.
They’ll fall in love with my words so sweet.
So I’ll write all the way.
I’ll write, till the end of my days.

People tell me stories, so I listen
to their tales of heroism.
They fought their demons,
the demons of their own.
Knowing that the results are unknown,
they fought for greatness.
Some succeeded, some failed.

They’ve been through hell,
and live to tell the tale.
Greatness is what they reach for,
but some wanted more.
Blinded by the ambition of being great,
they live a life full of hate.

Those who were not humble,
they suffered and crumble.
But for those who stayed true,
greatness came with no further ado.
Their greatness became a virtue.
We can be great to.
Some day it will come true.

And if it does,
be humble, because it’s a must.
Don’t let the dark side of greatness devour you,
just stay true.
Remember your roots,
for they are the ones you will salute.