A Present Of Patience.

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I wake up every morning, facing the same boring faces,
Talking and discussing about their wonderful world of self,
Bad mouthing and ridiculing everyone else, always forgetting their own,
Lacking of contributions, achievements and glory,
Telling how just great they have finally become,
A mere talking parrot, tied by the legs, never to fly high with wings.

I face the never satisfied man,
Complaining about this and that, disliking everything,
Talking about how stupid and ignorant everyone else is behind their backs,
Except of course, but his own self-cleaning self,
For he had climbed and conquered two mountains,
While others, unknowingly to him, had built a hundred of mountains,
For talk is cheap, it can't ever sweat nor could it bleed,
Satisfaction is reserved, for the humble that never cheat.

I see men cursing the cruel,
While his fingers holding a cigarette and puffing nothing but smoke,
A poison so deadly to his friends and family, never to his foe,
Without the cruel ever needing to fire a single shot,
Except burning the money of a big shot,
That had bought his own loss not gain,
And one wonders why a fish could feel an excruciating pain.

Please give me a present of patience,
For I am lacking of it, day by day,
For having to watch and suffer the worthlessness of this short life of mine,
Of the arrogant, that is as big as a small fly.