Bad days come and go.
You don’t always reap what you sew.
Sometimes life is hard,
And you don’t get dealt the winning card.
As my mother said “that’s life.”
It’s going to be filled with strife.
You simply soldier on.
Tomorrow there will be a new dawn.
It will bring its own forms of pain.
But maybe a chance to gain,
Something you didn’t have before.
You might even get something more.
I hate my pride,
And the way I’m never satisfied.
I love my drive to work and make,
Even if it’s just for motion’s sake.
I hate my reluctance to make a stand,
Even when the embers of my anger are fanned.
I respect my lack of complaints,
Though it doesn’t put me with the saints.
There are many sides to me,
Some I love, others a don’t want to see.
I have good traits and bad,
Some are happy, some are sad.
I try to maintain self respect,
Though I know I’ll never be perfect.
I am weary of the fury which I feel from day to day.
My eyes grow bleary and I merely can not stand to feel this way.
I say verily that I barely contain the rage which bides within.
I act ferally when once I merrily would have been a perfect gentleman.
Some days I cry and wonder why, it is that I no longer act a friend,
But then I sigh, for tis a lie, that my will I can not bend.
I must take control of the role my patience plays within me.
Or t’will be a tole and my soul will have to pay the fee.
So I’ll be kind and work to find a new way to vent anxiety.
I am resigned, myself to bind, for gentility to gain notoriety.