Nero Banz



I have known the taste of victory only in small bursts.

I am better acquainted with the bitter taste of misery scratching at my tongue.

To the naked eye I appear as happy.

But no no I am far from that word.

That word alone makes me retch.


I don't tell samp stories to gain your pity.

Quite frankly I don't need it.

You haven't got a clue of what my tear stained eyes has seen.

They tell me, the love of a women could calm my fires in my soul.

Oh yes,I really needed to be lied to,manipulated and blantly mistreated.

Yes I needed to hurt.

Is that what your saying? If so shut up.

I don't need anyone's help.

I am not tough nor brave.

I am not immune to the disease that plague my soul.

A disease that rips me to my core.

This disease, this sickness consists of the one thing that could end my life.

Persist am I.

Like a phoenix, I rose from ashes.

Dust covered but ready to fight.

To fight for the thought that I had.

That all you had to do to be successful in life was to do the right thing.

How naive.

I seen liars prosper.

Cheaters married.

And murderers forgiven.

I am not entitled to anything but it would  be marvelous if the wheel of fortune would spin my way.

To see people who went up and beyond to do the right thing no matter what be rewarded.

But fortune loves to reward the one who drove up the mountain rather than climbing by hand.

It is the kind of sadness that I know so fondly.

To be the one overlooked.

Maybe in death the fires of my soul will be finally quenched.




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