Someday
The burn, the lies, the scorn, the hurt,
The soul is torn from the dirt,
Brought forth by alleged professors,
The modern beliefs, these obsessors.
They throw out the accusations,
With such thoughtless fascinations,
Unbelieving the unbelievable,
Not understanding the inconceivable,
They believe that one is like them all,
Causing the good to take the fall.
He who hangs with the outcasts,
Who is not one but sees the out lapse.
They say he does what they do,
But not yet knowing what is true.
Today he's an outcast for his friends,
But society wants to make a mends,
For his achievements are unbelievable,
And they understand the inconceivable.
This will be my future, my great path,
And to those who accused me I will laugh.
Copyright © Brandon Olds | Year Posted 2009
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