Rain on Your Charade

You can't stand the passion you see.
You can't stand creativity.
You can't stand anything but the bland,
anything that doesn't march to your one-man band.
Nothing is pure enough to compare
to your odorless ordure; your nose in the air.
Turn your smirking face to the wall
and never act, do nothing at all.
I'll rain on your charade.
It's so much easier to stand apart
than to risk failure and a broken heart.
But without that risk, you're left behind,
your desire grows deaf, your hope goes blind.


This is for the inactive slugs who have nothing 
better to do than criticize the productivity of 
others. Your petty sniping means nothing.