The fear of messing up, that engulfs my psyche
Being aggressive is not so much, a counter to it.
Every move I play, every word I say,
I know, will be judged,
based on my roleplay.
If we are but a character in our own novels,
how capable are we to become the lead?
preferred by our choice.
Do we bend the story, kill the king?
set the Damsel in distress,
Only to have her rescued and marry her in a palace?
What do we do that makes it ours?
what should we do to keep it fair?
If Venus had come to earth, and we bowed before her,
would’ve been simple, not much unfair.
For I wouldn’t have to play always by the book,
For I wouldn’t have to seek new ways to look cool.
Things are changing and I’m ageing as well,
I know not much mistakes, I can afford before farewell.
Judgement will be passed and nothing can be done,
I may be conscientious but am I really beloved.
How do I actualize, in Maslow’s pyramid?
Do I follow the Buddha and skip the in-between?
There’s been a hollow in my heart, for far too long now,
in the Quest to fill the void, I need to go on an adventure.
It is this that I have trouble with,
why do I have to be alone, in my own story?
This is a war that must be fought
For every inch of her precious soul, a pacifist will die alone.
A nice one will give up, a bad one will hurt,
How do I be one, who wins in the end,
How do I write it so it ends up being fair?
The damsel, I had made her in a poetic regret,
For she didn’t wish it to be rescued by me,
For she didn’t have to be in danger to begin.
How do I rescue her when she’s not in danger?
How do I make her fall in love?
When there’s little I can offer.
Leave it to fate or should I build it bit slow,
Or should I give up on my own novel,
As I’m not heroic enough of a character?
Decisions that make us King, lead to the bloody boulevard
How can I be so heartless to soak her in blood?