The calendar shed its last leaf of chances,
Three hundred and sixty six windows shut;
The moon has undergone a dozen phases,
But no high or low tide can get you past.
Your lackadaisical methods and indecision,
Failed to find that door to a good year;
And you're suffocating in your desperation,
Like a nightmare trapped in its own fear.
Eleven disappointed months fall in line,
Even December has already accepted its fate;
Cascading like lifeless dominoes you'll find,
Scattered in the wastes of your world inanimate.
Self-abhorring like a snake biting its own tail,
Aimlessly mindfully going around in circles;
Reading rejection letters and spam emails,
Looking for false hope in a perpetual cycle.
Making a promise you know you can't keep,
Like the past new years that will have come and gone;
Where you always try to count all your sheep,
And your wolves will make sure to give you none.

So much for superheroes saving the day;
Every good guy's epilogue is a cliche.
Tedious compulsory celebrations
For all their mundane actions.

A villain's portrayal is what excites me.
Ever since a kid I could already see;
Creativity in all those gimmicks,
Geniuses of ***** tactics.

It is never easy to become the antagonist.
The object of all hate and blacklist;
The one that is destined to fail,
To fulfill a comic's holy grail.

Yet the bad guys do most of the heavy work,
Perfecting their schemes with an evil smirk;
But every time they're about to win,
The plot will smash their plan to ruins.

They say some people are destined to be heroes;
It's a fate preordained a long time ago.
But the truth is that everyone needs a villain,
To finally uncover their life's meaning.

What the world generally calls as criminals,
In reality are just misunderstood equals.
They taught me more about the cruel life,
Better than any superhero's strife.

He kept it in a box
Laid out a dozen traps
Set up a thousand locks
So it will not find love
To save him from the pain.

Of giving what is left
In the residue of him
What life remained inside
Of his dead fidelity
She killed a long time ago.

Now it got him thinking
About chasing serendipity
And the might-have-been
If it is still beating
He can only second guess.

A self-defeating experiment
Designed to tell the truth
As he watched closely in that box
His heart, looking half alive or dead
Will it learn to love again?

The game of a few
For a crooked cause or two
A thousand lives to pay the price.

A hundred-harbored hate
On the sight of countless graves
And the love all cast aside.

A city's dreams
Destroyed by a single scheme
For the vindication of some.

A faction's victory
Over the world's melancholy
That cannot be undone.

When the less becomes greater
And pride will rise to power
Such will be the fall of man.