Lo! The so called protagonist, yearning heroic fantasies, the imbecile dreams to please and seize the hearts of the very people who disparate against him; fortunately he found a little sense before he was self deceived, past and the future in a land filled with embellished thorns, the mindless protagonist hopeful in his endeavors. He yearns to finds peace instead of having to please and appease the diseased, the soon to be deceased.
Every day he is numbed, being dumb, he repeats the same mistakes and goes glum, still he benumbs, with no intention to succumb, determined to rise against the mountain’s crumbs.
His eyes filled with worry, anticipating the night’s miseries, they are no mysteries they befall him and surround him with fear and ill stories, and he fails, the grown up wails, to no avail, his efforts gone stale, a mediocre tale, yet the stupid prevails.
Hailed by the derailed, the people have lost their trail, to them you are failed; indifference and intolerance gave birth to a subconscious competition to see who will prevail.
Importance in intelligence, intelligence in arrogance, a waste of a person, no more than a delinquent, he stands proud in acting diligent, an arrogant moron, the scum will soon learn knowledge alone is no wisdom.
Weakness in too many places, he studies the many faces, went through the many phases, yet still there are so many phrases, now for the appraisals, he realizes he is but weak and powerless, insecure and constantly fearing disasters. He wails again, observing old people ripe with age, still filled with rage to assert importance and gain honorary traits—lack of faith is never a good trait.
His whole being aches, his pride’s at stake, what about respect, titles, power and fame? It’s time to decide…He then decides what good it is to live up to kings and human beings? When the whole world is not even comparable to a mosquito’s wing? He turns his back from the fantasy world. Equipped himself with mediocrity and immersed himself in reality.
Hey imbecile! So has the world changed? Murkier it has gotten; my hair has now fallen, my tooth are rotten, I dislike this English I have written, a man made rule of taking strides, of deciding what is right and wrong through the idiocy of people's capacity and tolerance evaluating and marking and determining other people's intelligence. I wish to have swallowed my frustrations and conveyed my worries good riddance.
What good is pride, when you’re a creature called man, what good is arrogance when it creates vengeance, what good is a man, when he forgets his reason, what good is man when he denies his origin. What good is a man, when he forsakes the air he breathe in?
