A Man Can Run on Hate

Thoughts after seeing Napoleon

A man can run on hate, 
Or a man can run on love,
Some men can’t stand their fate,
While some are blessed with luck. 

The spiteful man will climb, 
On the backs of those he knows,
While the grateful man delights, 
To make friends of former foes. 

Some men would burn the world, 
To warm their frozen hearts,
Lovesick over a girl,
They rip this world apart. 

How many men have died, 
Because another man was hurt?
When a king loses his bride, 
Mass graves soon fill the dirt. 

Napoleon and Hitler, 
They knew not much of love,
How quick their hearts grew bitter, 
After they had been rebuffed.

Some men want to be great, 
It burns so in their blood, 
Before them lies a gate,
Within them rests the flood.  

Some terrors are manmade, 
But the pen still beats the gun, 
Some men revere an ink stained page, 
More than a battle won. 

Every man must make a choice, 
About who he will be,
And how he will use his voice, 
In a world where choice is free. 

For a man can run on hate, 
If he wants to be a king, 
For himself he makes a name, 
One he makes all others sing. 

But will it make him happy? 
When the world’s as sad as him? 
Or will he just get sadder?
When he’s fulfilled his every whim? 

So many men are lonely, 
They’re broken up inside, 
They’d rather burn the world, 
Than hurt their fragile pride. 

But if they learn to heal, 
Rather than turn to hate, 
Peace might gain some appeal, 
Among men who hate their fate.