Just be

I think the trees don't fish for compliments,
Of making the world a better place to live in.
So full of bloated egotism and the desire
To prove yourself and bring others down.

I think the clouds don't advertise their deeds
And say its all their doing and not of others.
So sure that it is their words that really matter
And not what they think secretly at heart.

Not that I am in anyway perfect than them
But when I read the secrets of their hearts;
All hope turns to dismay and love to ashes;
Envy, anger, jealousy and real hard feelings.

Yet with smiling faces and heart full of venom
They blow their own trumpets and grumble.