Double standards and other crap

 My enemy

 

Sometimes I’m sick of

Sages, priests and poets who are born

To praise the beauty of the flowers

Without thorns.

 

Sometimes I’m sick of

Vassals who speak only to complain,

When they love nothing more than their own

Iron chain.

 

Sometimes I shut down

Songs which make me feel misunderstood,

Because the singers only like me

When I’m good.

 

It became clear why

My religion often asked of me

To look around and maybe love

My enemy.