#vainglory
O' brother
Today is the anniversary
of the day you were born
But Fear not
for I have a Present
It is a cake obviously
Never doubt me
never
Either way
cake
For you should feed your Gluttony
And though I ate nine-tenths of the cake
you still ate
O how kind I am
How much more Retribution
truth
But I am higher of that
Regarded as Saint
that is what kindness I have
O' brother
I write to you today
for my anniversary of the day
I died came
I have seen a ******
I have seen a robbery
I have seen the cruelty of humanity
But all I am and is a bystander
who keeps His Head down
With mediocrity
and hypocrisy
Ego dominant
while the Id is miniscule
Either way
It seems that
I can't show my kindness no more
O' mineself
I have a confession
I may see the trash
out of all the trash
and though the foggy mirror
blurs it
I Still See
Mineself
For even though
I have saved a kittens life
I have saved a boys life
I have saved a girls life
I have saved an adults life
I have saved my ego
I have saved my Id
How more trash could I be
I can't say sorry
no
I can only say that I am no more
a saint
a bystander
just the trashiest
of all trash
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 12:53 PM UTC
When just a child the poet's mom said "Son,
Throughout your life beware the sin of pride.
Remember this when every day is done,
What counts the most is who you are inside."
At first he thought his mother's words unfair
For recognition surely has its place.
In time he witnessed prideful thoughts can flare
When undue adulation supplants grace.
The poet took to heart his mother's words
Too many accolades can turn your head.
Vainglory flits away on wings of birds
What's left is mostly emptiness and dread.
Life immersed in modest exhibition
Satisfied with honorable mention
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 8:11 PM UTC
We are all hypocrites,
passionate on
crime, *** and drama
We are all hypocrites,
building our
two-dimensional dioramas
We think fast,
our half-witted brains
conniving
We talk fast,
our foolproof tongues
praising
We love to hate others,
and bask in the glory
of their demise
We hate to love our brothers,
for all our speeches
are mem'rized
Stepping stones from naivety
Our vainglorious insanity
Romanticizing reality
The hand that
feeds us
is our enemy
When will this stop?
iamthe_avatar ©2016
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 6:34 PM UTC