Pride

The real truth is nobody can handle anything We are all minature soldiers in a routine of stregnth Some may be used to a faded regime in ardent extremities Others ponder the ellaborate scheme amidst Shadows torn in darkened pavement sought regime We often will hide behind the false hidden garb of compromise Twisted logical persuasion bursts through the sky In our pride we tend to hide behind its mask a handicap In pursuit of change we vaguely rearrange its ardent mast Coupled by a porposal amidst tragic events in decay We then surface amidst the variation of its pitch face down in some ditch No one ever thinks rationally anymore too stuck up for their own good In silence one can equate twisted brains in disguise of shallow pools In retrospect to want we ignore its regard to help Shades of green grass in illumination breath in oceanic conquest An eager delight to shout full force inside the equated shape We then will hide behind a loose decision made in the darkness ~ Through the flood of innocence we negate to tolerate its light Instead we compromise by living by sight Shaped our illusional grade of hope!