Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

I'm stuck between two choices. Is it this, or is it that? 
So much weight rides upon my back. 

A pack mule to the world, and a slave to my envy. 
Staying faithful to people, desiring no glory. 
Yet I fight to stay on my journey. As others sit, and write my story.
Nothing flashy do I seek. Nor do I seek an audience with the king. 

For heavy is the head that wears the crown, and there is never a soul
To help lift you from off the ground. Nor does anyone hear you, when you make a sound.

The throne is a seat, in which one may not rest their feet, and in all truth, it never seems complete. Relaxed for the moment, on guard for the next. A life of ease, with unseen rest. 

A simple test to a mindless quest, yet still we give our very best. Only to be beaten Beyond regret, and mocked by those who seem to be the true elect.

One may tell a joke, while the other begins to choke. And when it all burns down
I wonder what lies beyond the smoke, or what rumors will a dead man provoke!

And though my words may not pass this iron gate, I make my stand, and thus do I 
Celebrate, for I hope to remove the hate, and watch the world turn and calibrate.

As pride and joy join together, we must sit and remind one another that even though times are rough, we can still stand tough, hold our heads high, and never give up!

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