A Modest Soul
Now that you have reached the top
Don't look down; it's quite the drop.
How can you steady your feet?
When all is won, none left to defeat,
And your wisdom becomes unclear
As panic cements your realized fear
Was it worth the fight after all?
To burn and lose your one soul
Like a moth to the light,
Dead set on its fight.
Now as you look up
With bitterness filling your cup
And so-called friends, who held your rope,
On your way up to a blazing hope
Hiding nowhere to be found
Moving on to fresher ground
Since your flame nears its end
Like vanity never on the mend,
And a lesson too late to learn
A modest soul does not burn
Unlike your head buried in a cloud
Like a single ant amongst a man crowd
Crushed by hurried feet in its tracks
A fizzle end to your lofty climax!
September 6th 2011
Copyright Leaking Pen 2011
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Comments about this poem (A Modest Soul by Leaking Pen )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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