When days are good,
in a daze, they rest,
on their laurels, they wait,
for their target’s downfall.
When down, they rejoice;
When in need, they jubilate;
they groan when fortunes grow
and one soars beyond the sore.
When days are stormy,
all on their heels cheer,
praying not for healing;
and lessening the lesson learned.
The darkest night, though
into light it always turns at dawn;
the road alone rode becomes,
a stair to a vantage for one to stare
at the poor, confused haters.
