it does not pay.

the rite of passage is indeed a cruel thing.
of course, we could easily argue that we are training soldiers.
but as often as we would like to do that,
i have always wondered what were once, before what we are now.
were we once that weak in the mind?
were we once that weak physically?
or were we once that weak altogether?

i tried to see the best in everybody.
but what i could see at the end are colors, usually hidden beneath sights.
as much as i try to fight this vicious cycle,
i constantly find myself swept to each downfall by vermin tongues and villainous hands.
i have had enough.

it does not pay to be kind.