I'm surrounded by cotton-bullet people.
They do not want to fight.
They do not like to be hit.
I know--
I tried a million times to wrestle;
They wanted no part.

I'm surrounded by cotton-bullet people.
But I'd rather weild a greatsword--
Don't care if it knocks me down,
I lose my balance--
How else am I to learn to pick myself back up?

I'm surrounded by cotton-bullet people.
They shy away from me,
And expect me to shy from them--
From everything.

But how am I to live that way?
Will it scare them when I am bold,
And unafraid?

Am I right that I should prepare myself
To withstand
Whatever battles may come?
Or am I just a silly, sentimental *******?
Filled with ideas about fighting for honor,
And about feeling Alive.

I'm surrounded by cotton-bullet people.
But I long to hit and be hit.
Hard.