"On Self Loathing"

Note: While I wrote this poem with Becca in mind, it is really for anyone who has ever been depressed or hated themselves. That road's a dead end... probably literally.
"On Self Loathing"

A man who loathes himself is a man who is a fool,
or at least is unable to see the shining light,
for the world is no easy place, and the world is often cruel,
but there are some things that are out there that are worth the awesome fight,
more rare than gold or silver, more valuble than a jewel,
and it's obvious to those with a profound sense of right,
that these rarest of the rare things are worth fighting a duel,
for just the merest glimpse, the most quicksilver sight.

There are some things among these lands of debauchery and loss,
that shine bright and beckon to the bravest of the brave,
these are the things that glow with an unbearable gloss,
these things that the greediest of the greedy men crave,
and all evil men try to get them in their paws,
while good men defend them against the hell sent knave,
who desires to deliver them to his firey boss,
after sending those who hold them into an unwarranted grave.

For they are the strong holds against the enroaching dark,
for they are the things that hold back the ever approaching black,
and they are the things that fly above us like a lark,
and those who hold them never feel a single lack,
for they hover above bereft of the smallest black mark,
and guard their owners from a hell driven knife into the back,
and you can hear the hellhounds pursue with their infernal bark,
and the demons trying to steal them through guile and tact,

but they will never leave those that hold them all alone,
but they will never give cause for a despairing groan,
and even once we lie cold and dark below the grassy knoll,
we will live on in paradise through the power of the soul.

Everybody has a soul, at least in the beginning. Through our actions and our deeds, the soul can grow strong and proud, or shriveled and weak. Still, we all have one, burning inside us like the sun. The darkness would like nothing more than to consume that never ending light and transform us into the lifeless monsters you can see every day on the news. YOU CANNOT LET THEM. Self loathing is the devil's tool which he uses to drive those who could shine like the brightest star into the blackest hell. However, it is only an illusion, which can be banished with a sight of the light. Whoever, wherever you are, know this; somewhere, somebody loves you. Guaranteed. _I_ love you. With the knowledge that someone loves you, how can you do other than love yourself?