The Loner

 
To provide a means to the end:
twisted forms of satisfaction,
sadistic and cynical thoughts;
no end, though you can still pretend.

There will be no trends or
gossip among friends for
the one who chooses solace;
dark and callous innermost.

This world tells of how many things,
that prick and poke like a barbed thorn;
venomous as a deadly snake.
Succumb to this fate, then you’ll see.

Don’t say that it’s lonely,
I have myself you see
always for company;
If you don’t, I’m sorry.

I only choose to be alone,
because there are too many ass
holes where I might find myself prone;
so a loner I have become.

How else do exalted
ones make it from below,
twisted and cynical:
because they run the show.