Roamed Struggles: 2 of 6

In a place such as that,
There was no failure or luck
Opportunistic targets,
I observed and joyfully marked
I knew, once I was off the shiny titanium pole,
Hands of mine,
Were to be darlingly occupied
Excavating for a treasure,
Hidden and interred, in a target’s outlook
Less sophisticated, the target had to be
Carried away into the night,
My hands were to be delightfully felt,
And filled with traces of the treasure
You may wonder:
I may have believed too much
What if the treasure was not there?
Only it being a myth?
It was no surprise; I knew a fact:
The treasure was there
One never had to believe, if something was true
The struggle was real, but at that point,
Scramming was vibrantly tossed, by raising hands
My time was over, I freed the shiny titanium pole,
I admit, I enjoyed every little bit of it
Mainly because,
I freely exposed a flawless body of mine
Which many aspired and wished to have
But they could not obtain
They were too lazy to do the work;
Scorned in guilt, covered with claimed pain
All they were hopelessly left with,
Was to chant wishes,
On shooting stars in a night sky
They forgot, no matter how much luck one had,
Or enchanted charms obtained,
From higher powers
There would always be,
More wishes than shooting stars
A few of the shooting stars, I shot them down
Before I arrived in that place
Ruining lazy covered lives of many
Many of them, were shy and only wanted,
To be passively entertained and impressed
They feared to be criticized
Struggling to keep a little dignity,
They robbed on a night before
The little dignity they robbed,
They carried it around with tremendous pride
I knew all about it, I was there before
They thought, I entertained them
I pursued my way, into her arms
My target: I was right, it worked