Is it all really so trivial to you? In your eyes is this a foolish game to be played by the weak, the young, the blind?
While those in triumph may gloat, may saunter, strut, flounce about the place with their chins held high, their pride and presence more intact than ever. So strong it burns to look at in the face. Sickening. Selfish. Gluttonous.
However, those who lose, really do lose. We sit, watch, wait, whisper among ourselves. We ache, burn with envy and a passionate sense of subtle fury and pain. The losers, however, shall rise. We shall knock the smiles from the face of the proudly, loudly triumphant. We shall wipe their mouths clear of the smug sense of owned reality, of self respect, self worth and deserving.
No one shall deserve more than me once this day is done.
No one shall earn more than I in love, life, laughter and pain. The treasure shall be mine. The gold will fill my hands until it drops to the floor in heavy, radiant clatters.
This is my victory, my ugly, brutal triumph. To be taken, snatched, clutched at despite all odds. This is for me, and no one else.
Life deals a fair set of punches, brace yourself, baby. You're in for a hell of a ride.
And once you're done, shaken up and sickened, though thrilled and excited, I shall be gone. Sauntering off past the sunset, my hair marking the horizon like an unwanted, dirt smut present on the car windscreen of your supposed life.
Deal baby, deal.
While those in triumph may gloat, may saunter, strut, flounce about the place with their chins held high, their pride and presence more intact than ever. So strong it burns to look at in the face. Sickening. Selfish. Gluttonous.
However, those who lose, really do lose. We sit, watch, wait, whisper among ourselves. We ache, burn with envy and a passionate sense of subtle fury and pain. The losers, however, shall rise. We shall knock the smiles from the face of the proudly, loudly triumphant. We shall wipe their mouths clear of the smug sense of owned reality, of self respect, self worth and deserving.
No one shall deserve more than me once this day is done.
No one shall earn more than I in love, life, laughter and pain. The treasure shall be mine. The gold will fill my hands until it drops to the floor in heavy, radiant clatters.
This is my victory, my ugly, brutal triumph. To be taken, snatched, clutched at despite all odds. This is for me, and no one else.
Life deals a fair set of punches, brace yourself, baby. You're in for a hell of a ride.
And once you're done, shaken up and sickened, though thrilled and excited, I shall be gone. Sauntering off past the sunset, my hair marking the horizon like an unwanted, dirt smut present on the car windscreen of your supposed life.
Deal baby, deal.
