Brick Walls

Arrogance is never pretty, false modesty's a greater sin,
there's no excuse for excess pride, and losers never truly win.
Minions don't equate to much beyond mob think and riding tails,
full of empty sounds, signifying naught but endless fails.

Perhaps years down a lonely path full of misbegotten youth
one may gain some wisdom, a modicum of truth.
But now, as yet, in all her puffed-up mimicry,
she refuses to perceive what the rest of us see.
She cannot be so clueless, she cannot be that dim--
they who extol her virtues, shove her further out on cracking limb.
Older eyes see through smoke and mirrors, we see the real, make no mistake:
Beyond the anger, we feel pity, we know what's true and what is fake.

Bright lights come and quickly fade, without a substance, just a flash:
all too soon to become nothing; all too soon to burn to ash.
Ride the surge, enjoy the view; we will simply choose to ignore--
as the wave becomes a breaker, to be obliterated upon the shore.