Small

The Napoleans need to lie, they have complex,
They need to be forgiven, it is a simple reflex.

If they feel small, my problem it should not be,
They need a place to escape, a destination to feel free,

To do something evil, they need to keep under cover,
So full of hate, they cannot be a lover,

One's without power, like to point the finger,
The deed stinks so bad, the smell can only linger,

Comparing themselves to others, they sure try to prove,
That they have strength, and mountains to move,

To overpower others, it is something real mean,
They are not strong, they did it as a team,

Treating this as a contest, like a competitive race,
If they had any courage, it would be done to my face.

Cowards is what they are, they were raised wrong,
I write about this now, maybe put it in a song.
,
They point of the black arts, not like white magic to be used,
It is intended for suffering, the flesh to abuse.

Over a period of time, I exclaim with a sigh,
I hope I survive this, and surely not to die.

I have my future ahead of me, gifts to simply give,
I just try to be happy, and my life to finally live.