the truth that killed belief
in your hands you hold a blade of truth
its a sharp and honed tool of justice,
and you swiftly stab into any back
that holds a different view than you,
how great and monstrous you must be
that the need resides so great,
to perspire over the insignificance
when you feel your ego comes late,
i carry my mood and favour
while you seethe and boil a’dry,
i scratch my head in a wonder
god knows your fear and strife,
as the verbal rain and sleet
pelts a carnivorous chop and slice,
you pummel me with a rage
while i only ever smile back nice,
