Love is the end game.

"SELF-INFLICTED"

Deception is complexity,
Honesty is simple
Here there is no mystery,
Love is the final riddle

And while the politicians
Like to pull the strings and fiddle,
The innocent always end up
Being trapped dead in the middle

The hate that burns within a man
Is a need which he can't understand
For self-acceptance, and esteem
Thus, in his head he boils,
And teems with self-inflicted torment
And seeks the pain of stronger men
So that they may scream for him