Men or Mice

Once, twice, thrice,
Here comes the slice,
All must pay the price,
To be among men not mice,

For each one,
It’s a different race to run,
Are you listening son?
We all have to get it done.

Some have to kill their pride,
Some learn to open wide,
And no longer to hide,
But there is no free ride,

Some have self to kill,
Others to temper anger with the will,
And yet more to drink sorrow’s fill,
In order to summit manhood’s hill.

But if you want to be one,
Counted as having done,
All there is in this race we run,
Then listen up son.

This is the slice,
Within you is the hidden price,
Your weakness you must dice,
To be among men, not mice.