Life is a battlefield

This life is a fierce battlefield, Little did I know before my birth, My weapons should have been better honed, So no earthly force could conquer me. Friends I made while I was nobody, Turned to foes when I sought to be somebody, Those I loved with all my heart and soul Blew pepper in my eyes when vision blurred. Deceit comes robed in sheep's clothing, But in its mouth lie poisonous fangs, Mental torture is their specialty – They wield it without a flicker of remorse. When I wept from the pains they inflicted, They dried my tears with clean handkerchiefs, Their smiles conceal their bitter hearts, Veiled in peace, their souls steeped in a vile bile. Why were some people made just to hate? They rejoice when they see their friends cry, They are logs happier as stumbling blocks. Than as bridges across a stormy river. Had I come with my own weapons, Their jugular would have been severed To drain their wickedness till dry, To purge their hearts of bitterness till empty, And plant in their minds true love to grow.