Why do I bother, wasting time,
On men who fumble, fail to climb?
They lack the sense, the common thread,
To face the world with a steady head.
Each word they speak, a careless blade,
Cutting paths of foolish shade.
I start to hate, with rising fire,
The hollow sound of their desire.
They stumble, fall, and miss the mark,
Leaving chaos in the dark.
It burns within, it twists my mind
Why can't they ever just be kind?
And yet, I wonder, is it me,
Trapped by my own expectancy?
A bitter cycle, a mirrored pain
Will I, too, break this chain?
