I still have a shot

I could’ve been so many things

but I chose to be

me

for whatever reason.

I look at the history teacher

dressing-up in his continental robes

preparing to teach his students

about war

and how it is so wrong

how we hurt the Indians (or Native Americans, or Natives, or…)

it’s a war of words.

It doesn’t really matter what happens to me

as long as I can be

like Geronimo.

This life is a test

subject

to your interpretations.

You can’t be a king

if you don’t believe

the grade you give yourself.

I long for war

waged

against impossible odds

I now know

why men died for things

If you don’t have something to die for

you are dead

The enemy is never out there

it’s inside your head

I’m waiting for my enemy to scream, “Tomahawks!”

The Braves

were brave

look at what society has done to them

People think self-esteem can be built in society

but it will never get there

Look at the frat-boy tyrants, intimidated, by men with nothing

Our politicians never learn

that having approval

of the people, doesn’t make them great

taking credit for something great, doesn’t make them great

You have to prove that to yourself—

it’s a process of personal integrity

despite defeat, and the worst odds

It can’t be given to you, so stop asking for it

Do—whatever it might be

If you can’t do that,

you don’t actually want it

and the walls will echo,

with the silence of anonymity

where greatness is always born.

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