The sky is the limit; they project –
The blind who dream in the lie of the night.
They fail to see the nature of their plight
Thinking loud with their miniature ways of output.
But I object, secretly accusing the heavens of hiding the light.
So I wake up every day ready to fight,
Take the bow next to me and take my shot
With a prayer and an intention to hit my target
And be among the pack of the few self-proclaimed gods with a lot.
Because I hate the struggle of the many in the dirt,
Fully aware of the fact that the law of the jungle is always right.

© Ommie