We curse the
world and those who curse
Who wish to
die, to take, to kill, to harm
We give them
names so much worse
Based on
their words and dark charm
We say, “I
am perfect and good
I tower
above these lowly fiends!”
But those ‘lowly’
are misunderstood
We are blind
to their ‘behind the scenes’
He who makes
others life hell
Has a hell
of his own
Locked away
in a guarded shell
Masked by a
threatening tone
Her
seductive smile and foxy flatter
Has crushed
hearts of frail glass
But her own
was beat to lumpy batter
Until she
had to wear a mask
What makes
you above their pain
Who placed
you perfect and true
They need a
comforting cane
To support
their wounds, old and new
They wear a
mask of perfection
Or show the
world “who’s bad”
But inside
there is an infection
Of shy,
hate, fear, anger, and sad
Why are we
letting them wither
In the heat
of the harmful past
When we can
help them better
And show
them joy that will last
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