The injustice

I'm not a joyful man,
not even when the sun is shining,
there is no biological trait in me
of being smiling on the outside
or even psychologically trying
to get me to smile on the inside.

The injustice of the righteous man,
I bare inside me like a hidden fate
and sooner or later everyone will know
I'm not their man to envy or hate.

I'd like to think that something of useful,
of good or seizable will come of this,
but I'm afraid I'm just fooling myself,
leading me to believe in the power of thoughts.

As the Universe unveiled, so did injustice,
for everything became relative and nothing granted.
There's a mixture of sadness and conformity,
just sleeping in the eyes of the men like me,
because we can't hide the secret
of never finding the shade under any tree.