Become exalted among men.
That was his calling, down
To the fibers that made up
Become a paragon of virtue.
Piety, prestige, power.
The three undulating commands
That invaded his dreams.
Hubris seeping from every pore,
He conquered his lands,
Spreading warmth from which
Will he die and leave his subjects
In a mask of pain?
Or will his benevolence remain
in the hearts of his loyal followers?
Such was the opaque fog
of his mind. Where he saw a perfect
Sphere of light
was an oblate cloud of darkness
Out of which seeped words
Prestige, piety. Power.
Just one more body.
Just one more royal cause.
They don't mind dying for you.
They will become martyrs;
You will become their god.
They call him a tyrant.
No. That word will not be allowed
In his country.
The darkness grows within him,
To the great observers
He is mister bright fellow
His nature is to be with nature
Showing his vibrant shades of warm
Many would say he is yellow
But his fuel is to steal oxygen
His habit is to leave the floor charcoal
And make the trees blame themselves for the ash
He comes and goes so quick
That only the one that suffered would know of his acts.
its been big long years since back to dark dark
our formas and forpas done some evil ignorance
now time be hard hard and strongs dont fall but weaks do
counts of many die die no cry else never stop
sleepies sup always this but not is true
mawma say a cart moved up hill no horse naw it aint so
fun fun reckon her dumb joke laugh and laugh
we here vivors here vivors group group always be vivors
A spell caster lived in woods
Always face covered by hoods
People stay away saying it's a witch
And only seen when day turns pitch
I don't believe in black magic ofcourse
But most say it exists because
The spell caster here is no devil
It protects the people, the shrine from evil
Once a bad witch brought kiosk to the people
Emerged amongst the few, this spell caster
With full knowledge of magic and spell master
Yet so many fear its powers and spells
But it never cause harm to any who wishes well
Its name is "HAUK", and it entertains no joke
With a shaft in a hand it walks
In its own world, it hardly talks
Yes, it's a human for sure
This village was an interesting tour...
There is hate in me,
behind my happy, innocent, calmness,
beneath the surface of my optimism
lies a demon of anger, depression, and fear.
But I can't let the hate go onto others,
they don't deserve to feel the pain of the cruel words I think,
the sadness that tides me make me cry oceans before I sleep,
So it gets released onto me.
Each scar on my wrist represents a fight,
a battle with this internal monster.
Each line means another win, for I have not given up,
I will keep fighting.
Fighting so that my friends never need to feel this pain,
so that they never need to worry,
so that I can keep smiling for them.
I will always fight,
and I won't lose to the hate in me.