Deep beneath the excess wood,
Lies my true self,
Waiting to be reached,
Giving an ear to the good words preached.
What hides under the excess is not wax or any weak at all,
It will not melt away, break apart or to a slight push, fall.
This excess excess wood,
Hides a beautiful sculpture,
That the world will see with awe,
Waiting for my soul, the sculptor,
To make these excess shavings clutter.
The evil, the morose and the greedy,
Hinder the sculpture to reveal itself,
Often, add on and on,
Grow and stay without any fear.
A time will come when,
I will shred them all,
Piece by piece the excess,
I will burn them all.
To any forces of harm from near or far,
My beautiful sculpture will not scar at all,
Chip by chip the evil hinders will fall,
With pride and respect will my sculpt stand tall.