Sometimes,
To speak your mind
How much courage
How much will
How much exhausting, empty flattering
If your mind happens to strike a mark.
I can't understand how degrading it is now
To believe;
Something or another.
They're always knocking you for faith:
In love,
In truth,
In light,
In beauty . . .
And it's kind of sad
When it's your loved ones who doubt
What you feel
And your self-proclaimed mentors
Who desecrate the loveliness they must teach
And life,
Pretty hard, pretty nice life
Which tells you in so many words
That optimism is futile.
And what is left?
There's only truth
Which all three take away
Or try to;
But they haven't got it from me yet.
