The Triad

The Triad rules with iron fist, They do more things than I can list. They argue always between themselves, Never putting differences up on the shelves. They constantly fight over foolish things, Like whether the rooster crows or sings. They moan and whine about life's trials, And rarely allow very many smiles. They speak of love and games to play, They converse in secret, hidden away. The world never sees them, yet I know them well, And constantly they put me through my own little hell. They trust each other so little at times, Blaming each other for imagined crimes; I wish that for once they all could agree, On what they think, on what they see. I pray someday this war will end, And peace will come, my sanity mend. Until that day, I shrug and I sigh, Hoping for peace for me, myself, and I. (I hope this piece hits you as humorous as it does me. I t seems like everyone is constantly at war with themselves, and this poem is just a humorous look at how sometimes we are victims of our own minds)