Heap Of Words

If there is one, of all emotions known, Inimical to the core, FEAR and FEAR alone. I fail to love, for fear of rejection, I fail to aspire, for fear of dejection. I fail to express, for fear of ridicule, I fail to be me, lest the '’me' is uncool! I choose the lesser peak, afraid I may fail, I chose the path most taken, all exhorts to no avail. I fight for hollow opinions, afraid of losing face, Yet put up with violations, afraid to attract disgrace. Afraid to be the first, I choose to simply follow, Deify the few less afraid, with servitude hollow. I avoid a moonlight stroll, for fear of the dark, I suppress my ebullience, for fear jealous neighbors hark. Oh! Was I to shed this mantle, this grounding chain! Oh! Was I to experience joys the same as pain! Oh! Was I to cast off fear, to make this burden light; Oh! Was I to experience life unhindered, unafraid to take flight.

They just walk into your head, They don't care to knock, or weigh timing, They whine for attention, other thoughts misled, And before you know it, they've begun rhyming! They lead you to aha! s, reduce you to aah! s, They cut you to quick; they elude when you hunt; They stoop to gibberish, worth less than Blah! They're the weapon of wit, best used when blunt. They drip with passion, tenderness, ecstasy, They explode with humor, or tickle like a child, They're magic carpets, woven of threads of fantasy; They the ooh! s and aah! s; screams of girls gone wild. They're the perfect expression, every woman covets, They're the power of a saint, oracle and presidents, They can mean the whole world, can be empty threats, They can uplift the masses, or charge up regiments! They can unite nations, yet put them into lots; Witty when measured, when unchecked- convey delusion. A score of weird symbols tied up in a knot, They bless humanity with the power of expression.

Sometimes, I like to feel the tear As it rolls down the cheek; Sometimes, When I get too much to bear, I wish that I were weak. Always, Proudly, Pride's the virtue of the strong; Always, Proudly? The Strong's too proud to be wrong... Sometimes, I wish that I were less Proud of the perfect self I'd one day be, Sometimes, I wish to accept the mess That the Present is- and so the Future be. Ambition, Indefatigable that it is, More of a burden, than a bliss. Never, I wipe the rolling tear. I'd rather let it dry Never, Abandon the Pride held dear, Nor give up the chance to try. In the age of innocence, when ambition was asnore , I read of the deer who set about to explore The perfume that teased it- day out and in- And wasted its days chasing, that ever lay within.