In a fit of fury, I laid my hand down;
Strewn onto earth, my broken crown.
It lies beneath my withered soul,
In lives of men both young and old.
My life has meaning beyond the throne:
Conscience mine, of theirs their own.
The land is high, it goes beyond
What my feeble soul can take for long.
Give me the best and I'll give you my all;
Give me a rest and I'll savor the call.
Ambitions my own, but the will not mine.
Workaholics are great, their essence a crime.
No comments:
Post a Comment