I am alive
I have my own style
But no one will take the extra mile
To gather my character and derive
Their own opinion and delve below the skin
For truth lies deep, and is not akin…
To their superficial view.
They condemn me as arrogant
But they don’t bother knowing me. The accusant
Is wrong, but their beliefs may stand undue.
When I think back I can but frown…
They see you for your money and looks, they gossip you down.
For one minute if they would strive
To understand your being and to rile
Others to do the same, the cycle could break in a while,
And become an age of understanding, where all could thrive…
But fact is relative and distorts as it is told time after time, such sin…
Placing guiles that mask a person’s true nature with spin.
So in the end we live in a world unchanged; but you can still begin anew.
So strain your eyes to see through their disguises with your own, don’t be hesitant…
To rid yourself of outside interpretation and allow people a minute of attention aberrant,
Within yourself you can teach yourself to subdue…
These urges to believe something unrevealed by your own.
Eyes, with these I see and with those reveal that I wear no crown.