War

I Declare war . . .
And my uniform is whatever I feel like wearing at the moment.
My house is the base. The world is the battle field.
I’m philosophical. The world is evil, the enemy.
I never know when we’re going to meet until I meet their eye's, and hate me from the sight . . . Evil knows good, good knows evil.
I’m a mature and my environment is immature.
My uniform tells on me, for they now know I’m not with them.
And though what wear stands out, my personality is camouflaged.
They can’t read me, so they make assumptions and think of me as negative.
But you don’t have to know math, it’s more of the logic for me to result as the positive one.
Until my days are done, I will always be on a mission;
Fight evil, spread my knowledge, and help only those who want to question their lifestyle.
The enemy might look at me and see me as unarmed.
But from what you can see, all I need is a pen, my mind, and a notepad.

This . . . is war.