"Best of luck in future endeavors"
is the cruelest phrase
in the English language.

Sulking decay that brought me dismay...
Know that I address you not:
Not by the sun that glistens
Or the skies that gleam...
But simply due to the epitome of discontent.
I am not your slave,
I am not your toy.
I am thinking man.
A man quite capable of life,
Life, that you seek to rob so many of.

What you are, is something keen;
Something vile and agile that roams the earth.
Demon? I can't say...just all things wrong
That beckon heaven to resent it
And even hell to spit it out.
You are obstinate.
You are warm.
You are comfortable
Because you are death...
Standing still in fear of life,
You tempt humanity to join your plight
But I see what you are...
I've felt you crawl down my spine...
I've felt your gentle hands caress
This face I've asked the shadows to hide.

No...I won't bear your plague,
I won't accept your reality;
Dear, Bitterness, you are not mine.

The walls of your soul that you
  Toil away building;
The windows are dark and the
  Bricks are unyielding...

( Hate, with a hammer, cracks the wall;
   But Love, with a whisper, makes it fall. )

How many times have I told you, Believe?
And then will you learn how to truly Receive.
  For giving is getting -- these two are the same;
  And living is learning to dance in the rain.