Power haunts the people at the top of the tower,
Showers on the sheeple drowning them,
Still some manage to find the flowers that aren’t browning,
Others look at them frowning downing the drink called hatred,
Not forgetting the people that write their emotions in a book and lock it away in a library,
Their dreams are on a hook and failure is the prey,
It seems they’ve let themselves turn to a crook each day is what they took.
Too many caves that people think gleam,
It’s places that team with darkness where you need to open your eyes and begin to blink,
Push through the times you bleed and start to chase your graces,
Don’t look for others traces and don’t fall for your own greed,
Only then will you be freed because your mind and soul will be in agree,
Successors won’t ball or dwell on the past because it comes last.