I have a problem that I cannot shake
Caught between tectonic plates
Where I love the world
But hate the crowds
I love the people
Yet hate their traits
I have a problem I cannot hide
All alone I fight inside
It withers down my patience few
So here I boil, here I stew
I tend to hate those I detest
Though I have never met the rest
I have a problem, this is true
Where I love to live
But hate to do,
Anything with anyone
For I can't stand give attention due
I have a problem, perhaps, so do you
For we are the unfortunate few.
Those who live behind a mask
Who cling so tight upon the past
We truly are a wretched crew,
But for now we are the unfortunate few
Life may very well be about taking
But not the kind that leaves others bitter
A taking that reciprocates with giving
And one realizes that one can take it all
But give it all back
Then they will truly master the world
Do you remember the cherry tree?
How it bloomed when the cold would recede?
Can you remember? Can you see?
When spring time came and the sun was freed?
Do you remember the pink petals soft?
Or the times we walked and it waved to us in the breeze?
Matched with the blue sky and white clouds aloft.
The whispers through its arms and leaves?
Do you remember that old cherry tree?
How on rainy days it braved the storms.
In the wild it grew happy and free.
Its outstretched arms, breaking all the norms.
Do you remember when we laughed and ran?
With ***** feet and playful bliss.
I remember that old towering fan.
And those times I surely do miss.
Are villains born or are they made?
Well why not both.
Perhaps we straddle being heroes and villains from birth to death.
And if anyone can be a hero, then anyone can be a villain.
Somedays we are heroes, some days we are villains.
And perhaps that is what Hamlet meant.
We are what we choose to be yet born to choose what we wish to be.
Good or Evil.
Thinking makes it so.
To succeed but at what cost
Bitters the sweet bite of success
And though the long fought battle not lost
Where we are is far from the best
If you sacrifice one million men
To proudly stand upright and shout that you've won
I guarantee a few billion more would send
Many letters that they miss their loved ones
We are told we are the heroes
Defenders of peace during these times
But though your victory stands grand and tall
The foundation is built upon crimes
They say a spiteful and cynical man
Was once a man who trusted too much
He believed in a cause or personal plan
But it soon became his crutch
The golden apple that seemed so delicious
Was now a weight upon his chest
From caring he became malicious
And now no longer cared about the rest
They say a hateful and villainous man
Was once a man who loved without fail
But he was betrayed and so he ran
His heart now cold and stale
I hold in my hand a goblet
Filled to the brim in hemlock
But I hesitate to sip
For it would surely **** me
I am in a state of pinnacle truth
Of pure control
For I can end it all
Or carry on
You carry the same goblet
Filled with whatever may **** you
Sometimes you are thirsty
And yearning to drink
To find comfort in that sip
When you feel like your life
Spirals into shredded paper
Or saw dust on the floor
But you hold that goblet
You control that cup
And no matter the moment
You are in control.